Championship Qualifier
by Hannah221
Summary: When wheelchair-bound eventer, Samantha and protegee, Emma set out to win showjumping's biggest contest in the country, the critics say they haven't a leg to stand on - literally. Qualifying will be hard enough, especially against arrogant Matt Benning...
1. Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

Samantha could think of no better ride than through the Forest. The fallen pine needles on the pathway provided a soft cushion for any horse's hooves. It was also cool inside and, through the dense canopy of trees, golden swords of the sun's rays pierced the undergrowth. The fortress wall of pines also acted as a sound barrier and provided very little wind resistance, creating a serene, almost mystical silence within.

Sam breezed her horse, Jetsetter down the now unused forestry track, not going at a flat-out gallop but not as slow as a canter. Not for the first time, she marvelled at the big bay gelding's suppressed power. He galloped with his nose tucked into his barrel chest like a warhorse and his neck crested like an archer's bow. With every stride, his hooves pounding the soft ground sounded to Sam like a muffled drum proclaiming the beginning of a battle. Jetsetter snorted through blood-red trumpet-like nostrils and his ears pricked forward and back, attentive to his mistress' spoken command. Sam rode high in her stirrups with her face close to her horse's neck. By comparison, she was small, with narrow shoulders and a slim, small-boned body. She appreciated the immense strength of the horse beneath her and respected him greatly. She knew he only tolerated her discipline because they both loved to gallop… _and to jump._

CHAPTER ONE

Nineteen-year-old Samantha Peterson, or Sam as she preferred to be called, lived with her brother Keith and his wife and son, on a small farm called Fernleigh in the New Forest. She had been show jumping on a competitive level since the arrival of Anglo-Arab mare Malaika when she was thirteen. Sam had been chosen to represent Hampshire in the Junior National Championships at the age of fifteen and together with the rest of her team, had won against fierce competition. But despite her talent for show jumping, she had turned to eventing and, on a trip coming back through France, had bought a German-bred gelding named Jetsetter. His price reflected his inexperience and Sam was lucky to buy this "promising eventer" at a bargain price. For a couple of years she schooled and jumped Jetsetter at small cross-country events, leaving Malaika and show jumping to take a backseat, until finally the pair accumulated a sufficient amount of points to be nominated for the Thornbrooke Eventing Championships. Runner up there and winning most of the local competitions made Sam and Jetsetter the sixth highest-rated eventing duo in the country. Everybody had suddenly taken note of her and nodding their heads, had agreed it wasn't bad for an eighteen-year-old girl. Now Sam had invested in another horse Hellfire, very green but with loads of potential.

* * *

Hellfire, Sam discovered, was naturally excitable and the slightest distraction could break him out in a sweat. He also needed a gruelling amount of flatwork, but when he settled down and concentrated on his rider, Sam found he was an absolute dream to ride. She was contemplating this on one afternoon in the exercise arena as she rode the bay in circles. Sporadically, he would go on the bit, but then small things, like a bird on the other side of the fence or the distant growl of a tractor, kept wavering his attention. Vigorously, she cantered him around the ring. It was unusually hot for late spring and she was wearing lightweight jodhpurs, chaps and a loose-fitting T-shirt. Sweat glistened on Hellfire's hard neck and hindquarters, partly from the humidity and partly from nervous excitement. Immediately surrounding the pair were jumps made from rustic poles and battered and rusty oil drums, and encompassing those was a dirty wooden rail fence. Sam's narrow shoulders moved as her muscles flexed, when she sought a tighter hold on Hellfire's reins and her slim, misleadingly strong body moved rhythmically in the saddle with the action of her mount. Hellfire snorted with each stride and tossed his finely-chiselled head, eager to break out of the slow canter to which his mistress held him. He suddenly thrust his nose forward, demanding more freedom and bolted forward, his quarters bunched together, his muscles like coiled springs. Sam wasn't unduly alarmed and proceeded to perform a half halt. Still circling, she found Hellfire especially disliked going on the bit on the left rein and the two fought a battle of stubborn wills. It was late afternoon by this time and the air was heavy with humidity. Hellfire wasn't the only one sweating profusely; great damp patches had joined across Sam's shoulder blades but so intent on winning this battle, she desperately ignore this wilting-flower-feeling. Continually, she pressed with her hands, seat and legs until her fingers ached and her calves felt like chewed string. Hellfire didn't appear to be annoyed by her insistence, only apparently unphased.

By doing scores of serpentines and figures of eight at a medium trot, Hellfire at last submitted to Sam's urgings. So sweetly he crested his neck, his mouth softening on the bit and he rounded his back. Nothing could describe the immense feeling of satisfaction Sam felt as he accepted the bit, arched his poll and drove forward with his hocks. It was a feeling of togetherness, like pieces of a puzzle slotting into place and Sam couldn't think of anything better than teaching a young horse the ropes when this was the result. She kept him in this position for a whole circuit then brought him back to a walk. Patting him rewardingly, she let him drift over to the arena gate. He had just earned his ticket to a day out on Saturday.

* * *

The stables were positioned against a slope shaded by fir trees. In front of the stables was a small shady exercise paddock in which Hellfire, Jetsetter and Malaika usually spent their lazy afternoons. Sam let Hellfire stroll homewards, his reins swinging loose around his neck. The sound of his shod hooves striking the cobbled yard floor brought a young boy to the door of the tack room. He had dark curly hair, tousled and unruly and a cheeky smile. His youthful body was stocky and bow-legged and his arms were strong from physical outdoor work.

"Hi, Jem. How're you?"

Jem Fielding helped out part-time at the stables. His father worked as a farmhand for Keith, Sam's brother and lived on the smallholding with his family. Three horses wasn't a lot of work, and Sam knew she could do the job fine by herself, but as far as she could remember, Jem had always been near the stables, fussing and loving the horses, and along with the frightening fact that he had just failed his GCSE's, it only seemed right to give him the job. He lavished attention on the horses, had a caring and patient nature and was always cheerful.

"Allo, Sam. Go all right, did he?"

Sam halted the big bay in front of the saddling fence and jumped off before replying.

"Yeah, he went great. He found it a bit tough to begin with but he tries hard."

"Bet he found it really boring. Didn't you, boy?" Jem cooed, rubbing Hellfire gently on his muzzle.

"He'll thank me one day when all that _boring_ schooling pays off. He might not know it yet, but this flatwork is going to make him a top-class eventer one day."

Sam lifted off the saddle and placed it on the fence. Jem shook a magazine he had had in his hand coming out of the tack room and Sam looked at him enquiringly.

"You're in _The Equine_."

"Am I? What for?"

"See here on Page Twelve. They're talking about your goals for the next show jumping season. They've even got a photo of Malaika. Where was that taken?"

"Southern Counties Agricultural Show it looks like. That article must be from quite a while ago."

Jem flipped back to the cover.

"Oh, it's last month's edition. I just found it in the tack room, that's why. But is it true, you're going to Huntingdon next year?"

"If I can qualify, then yes. Only the top twenty go through to the final. I'm going to have to find another horse soon though."

"What, you're going to buy another one?" Jem asked excitedly.

"Good God, no. I couldn't afford that. But there are plenty of owners out there with some good A Grade horses."

"But you'll have to be in the top twenty, so what are you now?"

"Qualifying shows don't start til later in the year but last year I got up to about thirtieth. That horse, Life Guard, whom Carroll Bellamy-Charles lent me last season was a Godsend when Malaika was out for that month with a bad tendon."

"D'you think she'll lend him to you again this season?"

"Dunno," Sam pondered, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't see why she shouldn't."

She stood for a moment, wondering the same thing which had plagued her on restless nights recently. Last season, with the huge Irish Sports Horse, Life Guard, Sam's ratings had rocketed. Malaika had missed valuable qualifying shows when she was lame, and her final placing of twenty eighth had been on the merit of Life Guard's ability. If she got that ride and Malaika stayed sound this coming season, she surely had a chance of reaching Huntingdon.

Huntingdon was a show jumping tournament that went on for four days during the month of January, held in a massive indoor arena in North England, and was every rider's dream of winning at. But it all depended on how well Sam performed up until then and at the end of the day, how Mrs Bellamy-Charles felt. Shaking her head she took Hellfire's reins and turned him towards his loose-box. Jem scuttled after her.

"I'll do that, Sam. Don't worry. Hey, Hellfire, big guy. Are you hungry? Do you want your supper?"

"Thanks, Jem. Just give Hellfire a drink before you feed him. Have the others been fed?"

"Eating now."

"That's great. Thanks a lot."

* * *

She stepped out of the stable and along the walkway. The whole stable was built in an 'L'-shaped structure, with one loose-box, a tack room and feed room along the one side and another three boxes made up the adjoining side. All of these looked onto a small square patch of grass with a water trough and mounting block and tack rail on it. The three horses were stabled next to each other along the one side. Going to the one nearest Hellfire's, Sam looked over the door to see, in the dimly-lit room, Jetsetter noisily eating his feed from the manger at the back. Sam's experienced eye ran over the bay's big-boned body. Nothing, she decided, was so beautiful as a fit, well-built horse, and Jetsetter was certainly that. His shoulders rippled with muscle and sloped down to strong forelegs. He was all an eventing horse should be. And hopefully this weekend he would prove it. Not wanting to disturb his meal, she carried on silently to see Jetsetter's other neighbour.

This horse, on the hand, was much more lightly built, but still shared a well-proportioned frame. Malaika had been Sam's first horse and they had learned to show jump together. The mare was a chestnut Anglo-Arab with four white socks and a blaze running down her delicate and pretty face. When she saw Sam standing at the door, she whickered softly and immediately left her food to greet her. Sam stroked the mare's muzzle, brushing off some of the crumbs on her lips and whiskers and fondly murmured to her horse, telling her about her day and asking the chestnut about her own. The two had an incredible bond, formed through a partnership over the years and not through brute dominance. It was something Sam appreciated very much.

She at last called goodnight to Jem, and breaking into a jog, headed back across the exercise paddock towards the house in the fading light. Sam enjoyed running, enjoyed most things which were physical and involved speed and her slender figure belied the strength which she really had. She had a gruelling season of show jumping and eventing ahead of her, starting this Saturday and she would need that strength to keep up with the pace, both physically and mentally.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

As Sam jogged nearer to the house, she could see someone sitting on the patio, facing her and figured it must be Keith, relaxing after a hard day on the farm. She made a silent bet with herself as to whether her brother would have a beer in his hand. Keith's golden retriever, Meg, barked as Sam approached, rousing Keith's attention. He raised his right hand and something bright in his hand flashed in the setting sun.

"You want one?" he shouted across the distance to where Sam was running.

Sam grinned.

"No, thanks," she called back breathlessly. "But I wouldn't say no to an orange juice."

By the time Sam had reached the patio and vaulted over the railing, Keith was strolling through the sliding glass doors from the living room with a beer can in one hand and a tall glass of orange juice in the other. Keith was tall and dark-haired as much as Sam was small and blonde, but their facial features were very much alike with their high cheekbones and blue eyes and wide mouth.

"Hallo, Sam. How's everything going?" he said, handing his sister her drink and sitting down once more on a deck chair. Sam leaned against the patio railing.

"Not too bad. How about you?"

"Same as usual," he grunted non-commitally. "Saw you riding whats-his-name."

"Hellfire," Sam provided.

"Yeah, saw you riding Hellfire earlier, how's he coming along?"

"Great," she replied enthusiastically. "I think he'll definitely be top-class. He can't wait to get at those jumps. I'm actually thinking of taking him along when I take Jets to the show this Saturday."

"To compete?"

"No, just for the experience. To let him have a look at all the hustle and bustle that goes with a competition. I'll enter Jetsetter though. The course is nice and tough," she said gleefully, "so that should be fun."

Keith sighed and shook his head sadly. Finally, he smiled ruefully at his sister, eight years his junior and said

"I don't need to tell you you're mad taking such risks, because you already know that. But there is not doubt in my mind that you were dropped on your head as a baby."

"Give over," Sam laughed.

"So is this show important?" he asked, finally trying to be serious.

"Fairy. If I win my event, there's quite a bit of prize money coming our way, so you won't have to worry so much about this month's rent, and the Eventing Board keep every impressive win in mind when selecting teams."

"Are you driving, or would you like me to? I wouldn't mind a bit of a break this weekend."

"That'd be great, thanks. I'm planning on leaving at around seven thirty. It'll only take about half an hour to get there and my first class isn't until ten thirty, but for Hellfire's sake, I want to get there early when it's quiet so he can get used to his surroundings."

"Good idea - oh, look. Here comes my alarm clock now," Keith grinned, his attention suddenly captured by the sound of a footstep behind them. A tall, pretty woman with long dark red hair and freckles walked through the glass doors onto the glitter-stone patio, a toddler hanging onto her dress and sucking his thumb.

"Hello, darling," Keith said, capturing his wife's hand and smiling up at her. "I'm going to need you to wake me up at the crack of dawn on Saturday, 'cause Sam's got a show. I said I'd take her."

Everybody knew that Keith got up before the birds on most days anyway, but for him to need to be woken up, it would have to be in the dead of night and she looked horrified.

"How early?" she quailed.

"Don't worry, Ali. He's only pulling your leg," Sam said. "It won't be too early. We'll be leaving around seven thirty." She turned to the little boy who was now emptying the soil of a nearby flowerpot onto the swept stone floor. "And as for you mate, I'm counting on your support."

"We'll see how tired he is," Alison said. "Oy, stop playing with mud, you'll get yourself dirty and you've only just had your bath. A seven thirty start for a long day is rather early for him." The little dark-haired boy carried on playing with the soil and his mother turned despairingly to Keith. "Please control your son."

"Hey Richard. Come help your dad finish his beer."

The three-year-old immediately dropped the dirt in his fat grubby hands and made a flying leap onto Keith's lap. "Great," he chuckled, "now I've got a nutcase for a sister and an alcoholic for a son."

* * *

Saturday morning dawned fair and mild, with a persistent breeze blowing through the trees. Sam was up before six and tiptoed out of her bedroom and past Keith and Alison's room. Holding her walking boots aloft, she stole silently through the dark house, and let herself out through the patio's sliding doors. She stood for a moment and took in a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fresh smell of morning. Against the paling indigo sky she could see the dawn breaking in the east, the first rays of the sun seeping into the blue. Quickly, she slipped her small feet into her shoes, tightening each lace with a determined jerk then vaulted easily over the dew-covered railing onto the grass below. Travelling at a steady jog to keep herself warm, tears formed in her eyes from the cold wind and the tip of her nose began to go numb. Sam reached the stables at the same time as Jem.

"Mornin', Sam."

"Morning, Jem. Thought I'd beat you here this morning, guess I lost again. How're you today?"

"Ugh, can't complain. And you? All ready for the big day ahead?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

"Is it a really big event today?"

"Big enough to give me butterflies."

"I get butterflies every time," the boy said, "and I'm not even riding."

Their voices had roused the horses and Jetsetter and Hellfire were banging their half doors with their forelegs, trying to attract their attention. Jetsetter had his ears pricked and whickered softly through delicate nostrils at the prospect of breakfast as Sam and Jem walked towards him and the others. Hellfire ducked his head back into the confines of his stable and seconds later a loud banging was heard as his steel-shod heels met with the wooden door.

"Hey, enough," Jem growled. "You'll get your food in a minute."

* * *

Finally, everything but the horses had been loaded into Keith's Jeep and the horsebox, which he had driven down shortly after everyone had had a quick breakfast. Sam held Hellfire while Jem walked Jetsetter up the ramp. The big bay lowered his head and stomped placidly into the horsebox like an old veteran. Hellfire's eyes were out on stalks, his neck seemed to have grown to giraffe proportions beside Sam and she noticed he had already broken out in a sweat. She spoke quietly to him, as he stood immobile, his eyes glued to the strange stable his friend had just been led into. Every muscle was tensed and he seemed poised for flight, like a stag caught unawares. Jem took his reins from Sam and led him forward. At the edge of the ramp the young horse stopped dead and snorted nervously. Sam grimaced inwardly. Hellfire had only been in a horsebox a couple of times before and she realised now that perhaps she should have put in some practice runs before today. If he refused to load, Sam was in danger of missing her class. But rushing him wouldn't work at all.

"Give him time," Sam told Jem. "He's only done this on a handful of occasions."

Jetsetter whinnied from inside and Hellfire leapt up the ramp in one powerful bound, dragging poor Jem with him and nearly crushing the boy into the centre partition. Sam helped Keith slam the ramp shut and bolt it firmly.

"Right," said Keith. "Let's get this show on the road." He and his sister climbed into the Jeep while Jem shut himself in the front of the horsebox with the horses and before long the party was heading down the bumpy dirt road, the sun's rays flashing brightly off the shabby, dented horsebox, as they journeyed to the show.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

As they rolled through the entrance, past a rotting, crippled wooden gate, Sam deeply inhaled the smell of the countryside. The Jeep and trailer bounced down a rutted dirt strip road following another trailer where two sleek rumps were visible over the top of the ramp. Sam's vision of the landscape to her left and right was partly obscured by thick pine and fir trees. Adrenalin was pumping through her body and she couldn't wait to get out and warm up Jetsetter and Hellfire.

_No matter how big or small the show,_ Sam thought, _I still get this rush of excitement. Nothing can beat the thrill of competing._

Once Keith had drawn the rattling horsebox to a halt in a spacious clearing where a handful of other trucks and trailers were already parked, Sam jumped out and went to check how Jem and the horses had fared. With Keith's help she gently lowered the ramp and called to the boy inside.

"All right in there Jem? Back him out nice and slowly." Hellfire began stepping shakily down the ramp a few seconds later as the boy pushed encouragingly on his chest. Once away from the trailer, the tall horse, his head held high and his eyes and nostrils wide, started sidestepping. His neck was slick with sweat and taking a peak beneath his sweat rug, Sam saw he was lathered up even more underneath.

Unfortunate, she thought, but not that surprising. Hellfire was such a nervous, excitable horse anyway and this being only the second time on strange territory, it was only to be expected that he would work up a sweat. Besides, it wasn't as if she was competing on him. Today was just for show experience. Sam felt it was asking too much of a horse, especially a young horse, when taking it to a strange place with lots of distractions and unfamiliar horses milling around to expect it to perform its best.

"All right, Hellfire. Okay, mate, there we go," Sam said softly. "Quiet now." He led out a clarion whinny and a reply was heard from a nearby horsebox. Hellfire bolted a few steps, dragging Sam and Jem with him but then stopped and snorted nervously.

"You might want to get Jetsetter out, Sam. It may calm him down a bit," said Keith helpfully. Sam went back to the trailer to fetch Jetsetter and found him still pulling at his hay net nonchalantly.

"Pig," she said fondly as she deftly pulled loose the quick release knot on his lead rope. "Come on, let's go. You won't make a scene will you, mate?"

Jetsetter knew what it was all about and came down the ramp as easily as he had gone in. Not a trace of sweat could be seen on his polished supple body unlike Hellfire who was drenched and trembling uncontrollably. The only excitement visible in Jetsetter was his glistening eyes and distended nostrils and raised head. Sam carefully undid the travel bandages on his forelegs and asked Keith to hold him while she undid the ones on his hind legs and tail.

"Please hang on to him for a bit more while I take off Hellfire's bandages, Keith."

"Sure, but mind he doesn't kick you."

Taking Hellfire's bandages off took a while longer because he wouldn't stand still, despite Jem's supreme efforts. She whipped his tail bandage off and patted him absent-mindedly on the rump, sending Hellfire into orbit. Sam jumped aside and shook her head, smiling as she watched her horse do his best display of rodeo. Jem struggled to life Hellfire's head but finally had him under control.

"Please can you walk him around for a bit, Jem? It might take the tickle out of his toes.

* * *

Sam held a still excited but much calmer Hellfire while Jem carefully lowered a saddle onto the horse's back. Now, she was dressed in white endurance jodhpurs tucked into spotless long black boots and fastened at her waist with a black leather belt. She wore her trademark lime green polo shirt, which matched the silk pulled over her safety helmet, and black riding gloves. Even though was not competing, he was also decked out smartly with a coloured brow band and a silver-lined Cavesson noseband and in place of his usual dirty green numnah which had a rip through it, he wore a clean and well-fitting sheepskin one. The egg-butt snaffle in his mouth and the stirrup irons on the saddle glinted and gleamed in the sunshine from Jem's vigorous polishing.

Hellfire jogged and pulled as the pair rode away from the horsebox. Sam sat easily in the saddle with a light contact on his mouth and became vaguely aware of the appreciative stares from other riders, most of them children who would be competing in the class before her own, but also early keen spectators. Sam knew Hellfire was a very handsome horse to look at and she felt like a million dollars riding this beautiful horse and being kitted out so smartly.

Gradually, Hellfire began to quieten down and the girl on his back was able to enjoy herself and forget her pre-class nerves. A temporary warm-up ring had been rigged out, grass had been slashed within a two hundred metre radius and in the centre of the arena, three jumps had been erected. The first, which was for juniors comprised of a pile of logs, shaped into a triangular prism with five old tyres leaning against the length of them. The middle jump was obviously for the more daring juniors and for the not-so-challenging use of the adults. It was a 'box' jump, which was made of wooden slats closely packed together with brush stacked inside it. The purpose of the tangled bushes and twigs in the box, apart from adding an extra foot to its height, was to test the horse's courage because it was rather formidable-looking, and also there was no perfectly level height to the brush, which made it difficult to judge. The third jump was a tall brush fence held upright by two heavy poles at the top. The ground then dropped about three feet on the landing and sloped away.

Sam walked Hellfire around the clearing, keeping close to the outside to avoid faster horses and ponies. Already, there were many being warmed up for the first class, which was for juniors. When there were fewer horses around Sam pushed her mount into trot. He had calmed down a lot and was listening to most of what Sam asked him. His pace changed smoothly into canter and she expertly guided him in a wide circle. She brought him back to a trot and repeated the same exercise on the other rein. Finally, she slowed him to a walk again and steered him towards the junior's smaller jump. She let him walk around it and smell it then collected up the reins and sent him into a brisk canter. Turning in a wide circle Hellfire approached the jump, lifting his head and pricking his ears in eager anticipation. He leapt over in a graceful fluid arc but with an extra two feet to spare. Sam knew this would be corrected with time as she believed most of an eventer's efforts and energy went into its jump and if it jumped too high, a lot of the horse's energy would be spent unnecessarily.

* * *

"Looking better now, isn't he?" Jem remarked when Sam, who had finally decided to end their exercise, brought Hellfire to a halt beside the trailer.

"Much," she agreed. "I don't want to push him too much but I think he'll take to competing like a duck to water." She ran up her stirrups and swung her body off the horse then gave him a gratifying pat. Jem took hold of Hellfire and dipped a large sponge into a bucket of water and squeezed it over the bay's poll. Hellfire raised his top lip and tried to catch the dripping water with his tongue, making Sam smile.

"We'll be walking the course soon," she said, more to herself than to anybody else. "I'll need to go get my number."

"I'll come with you," Keith said pushing himself away from where he had been leaning his lanky body against the trailer.

"Ali and Richard not come yet?" Sam said as they walked towards the declarations tent.

"No, but it's only half past ten. They'll be here soon."

* * *

Keith accompanied Sam around the course. The sight of all the challenging obstacles made Sam rub her hands together gleefully.

"Ooh, doesn't it look great, Keith?" she exclaimed at one jump. It was on a downward slope, a wall of logs had been gathered together and on the other side the ground had been built up so by looking at it from the other side, the jump only seemed about two foot six.

"Great - if you want to commit suicide," Keith said shuddering. "Aren't you supposed to jump it the other way though?"

"No. It's the opposite to a drop jump but I'm sure you could jump it that way if you really wanted to."

They continued around the course, Sam analysing each obstacle and its approach and landing, looking for short cuts and angles as sharp as she dared contemplate. All the jumps were full of risks but a rider couldn't allow herself to take too many chances. Chances meant doubt, and that meant uncertainty in the horse, both of which would be the downfall of both horse and rider. A good partnership would have only skill, courage, stamina and confidence. And arguably the most important of all - trust in one another's judgement.

* * *

When they got back to Jem and the horses, they found Keith's wife and son, Alison and Richard, had arrived.

"Hi Sam! Hi Sam!" Richard shouted when he saw his aunt.

"Hello, mate. I _know_ I'll do well now that you're here," Sam said, squatting down so that she was on eye-level with the boy.

"Wanna wide Jeps. P'ease Sam," he beseeched.

"Maybe later, little guy. Jets and I have to work. You can ride him later."

Turning to where Jem was holding Jetsetter, Sam thought how smart her horse looked. His coat shone like polished mahogany, his shoulders and hind quarters well muscled and his thick black mane lay like a silky fringe along his powerful neck. His bridle and saddle looked neat and clean while his breastplate, line with sheepskin, smartly matched his numnah. On his front legs over the paste applied, Jem had fastened brushing boots and overreaching boots.

Once astride, Sam felt secure. Jetsetter was so solid she looked upon him as her rock of stability and his familiar bulk brought reassurance rushing through her. She schooled him for a quarter of an hour to stretch his muscles, then turned him towards the jumps. Treating the jumps with contempt, his action was so smooth, Sam wasn't jolted at all but thought how different he was to Hellfire. Jetsetter always jumped low with his head down and stretched out, whilst his stablemate always carried his head high and jumped tall.

* * *

"Sixty seconds. On my whistle," the Starter said to Sam, as they stood restlessly at the start. The whistle blew shrilly and Jetsetter leapt forward as if he had been stung. The first jump loomed, a stone wall partially obscured by the thick grass, yellowing from the lack of rain. Jetsetter was over easily and hardly broke stride as he landed. Sam was grinning from ear to ear as she gloried in a wonderful feeling of speed and freedom. The pair followed the red flags, which would lead them to the next jump, four tractor tyres half-submerged in sand. Jetsetter positioned himself between the two middle tyres and lengthened his stride. He took off well away from the obstacle and cleared it in a flowing leap. The flags then led them into the forest where the ground became softer and the long dry grass more sparse. Small clusters of onlookers were gathered along the track and cheered her on, as she swept past. The third fence was a pile of heavy logs with a pool of water on the landing side about two feet deep. Jetsetter jumped and landed with a splash. He snorted as the chandelier drops of water sprayed up into his face and on his belly. He cantered strongly through the pool then jumped the small log on the bank up onto dry land. The next jump, Sam knew would be tricky. The ground declined sharply and led to a jump the same style as the box in the practice ring. It was roughly four feet high and four feet wide but it also had a sideways-slanting drop of three feet. It had been made more difficult with it being downhill. Jetsetter was still going strong and pricked his ears forward at the deceivingly simple-looking jump. About four and a half strides out, Sam suddenly realised they would meet it wrong. Her best bet was to push forward because if she pulled him up, an extra short stride would take them right under the obstacle and, with all his weight in front, Jetsetter would surely overbalance and fall. Sam acted quickly, kicking her horse hard and using her stick once on the bay's lathered neck. Jetsetter realised something was wrong and hesitated. Again Sam used her stick. As she leant forward to take off, Jetsetter wavered and put in an extra skip and bounced Sam out of the saddle. She hit the far end of the box but hardly felt the pain as the solid wood almost shattered her hip. She hit the ground, seven foot down, knocking the air out of her lungs and tumble-turned down the slope. The girl's main concern was that Jetsetter would jump and land on top of her. But as she turned to look behind in mid-roll, Jetsetter was already upon her. He was also falling, his legs flailing desperately above him. The impact as he landed his half-ton weight on top of Sam was dull and heavy and her body suddenly felt electric with searing agony. Jetsetter's shoulder hit first as he fell through the air into Sam's upper back. Then the rest of his body ground her torso into the dirt. She could hardly breathe for the sand and grit in her mouth and nose but managed a sharp desperate gasp as Jetsetter rolled off her. She could hear the harsh sound of Jetsetter's frightened gulps of breath and the muffled shouts from onlookers and officials, so close yet so far away. Sam opened her sand-encrusted eyes to see Jetsetter's face beside her. A thin trickle of blood ran down his dirt-tanned white stripe and his eyes were wide and scared. She opened her parched and bleeding lips to say something, anything to reassure him, but no sound arose.

_Everything will be fine, _she tried to form the words. _I'm sorry, Jets. I'm sorry for hurting you. Sorry…_ Then a blanketing darkness engulfed her thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The first thing Sam's senses recognised was the sound of voices, murmuring and echoing, like she was in a tunnel and somewhere in the pitch black darkness people were talking in hushed tones. She tried to hear what they were saying, and at first the echo-effect distorted their words, but gradually they became clearer as if these people were moving closer to her in the tunnel. It was two people who were talking, one of them comfortingly familiar - Keith.

Taking a deep breath, she gingerly opened her eyes but shut them tightly again as a piercing white light hurt them. Again, she tried and now she saw a glossy white ceiling above her. To her right, her brother stood, speaking quietly to a balding man in a white coat with a stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck. A doctor, Sam supposed. She must be in a hospital, that would explain her blinding glossy white surroundings. Then all too quickly the memories came flooding back. The cross-country competition, the drop jump, Jetsetter falling… Jetsetter! Where was he? Was he all right? That was a nasty fall. He must surely be hurt. What had she done?

Sam gave a low moan and closed her eyes.

"Jetsetter," she croaked. Immediately, Keith was at her bedside.

"Sam, you're awake!" he uttered obviously.

"Where's Jets, Keith?" She tried to turn her head to look at him but found she couldn't move. Some contraption fitted to her head stopped her from moving. "What the…"

"Jets is fine," Keith said hurriedly. "Sam, there's something the doctor has to tell you."

The doctor stepped forward, taking his cue from Keith and pressing his clipboard to his chest with his folded arms, smiling.

"What is this thing on me?" Sam demanded.

"Good evening, Sam -"

_"Evening?"_ Sam exclaimed.

"Yes, you've been asleep for over thirty six hours. This thing you're wearing is a brace. It's to keep your head and neck from moving. To stop any further injury…"

Panic suddenly swelled in Sam's body as she considered the impossible. Looking along from where she lay, her feet rose like snowy peaks beneath the white sheets. She tried to move her foot. But she didn't see anything move.

_Maybe I blinked at the wrong moment_, she thought frantically. Again, she tried. The sheets didn't stir. However many times she sent signals to her brain to move her feet, the connection failed. She looked at the doctor with wide desperate eyes.

"Say it's not true," she whispered.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor asked quietly.

"Tell me it's not true," Sam demanded, ignoring his question.

"When you fell, your horse landed on top of you. We think it must have been one of his hooves, which caught the back of your neck. The trauma fractured the top vertebrae of your spine and tore the ligaments in your spinal cord."

"No," Sam breathed. "This can't happen to me."

She closed her eyes, reassuring herself this was all some terrible dream, that when she woke she would be fine, maybe a few cuts and bruises, even a couple of minor broken bones. Anything but being paralysed.

"Will I walk again?" she asked cautiously.

The doctor cleared his throat.

"There is the possibility. Now, before you start thinking how that's not a guarantee, remember that you've got something to hope for. For many, there is no chance of recovery."

Burning anger suddenly scorched through her veins.

"Am I supposed to be _grateful?"_ she snarled. "Am I supposed to say 'Oh well, I should be glad I'm not as bad as those who don't have any chance at all'? Well, I am not thinking that right now! All I am thinking is that I can't move my legs and that's about it!"

Sam's outburst made Keith feel a little uncomfortable and he moved his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, but he had the sense not to reproach her. He could only imagine what his sister was going through and she would definitely not take kindly to this sort of news. Who would?

"Do you have any idea how long it would be before she might get some feeling back?" he asked.

The doctor shook his head.

"It would be impossible to predict the time in which young Sam might be able to feel anything."

Sam bit her bottom lip hard to stop herself from snapping at the doctor. How dare he call her _young Sam_? The doctor mistook this gesture as a sign of trying to hold back tears and he smiled sympathetically down at her.

"I'm afraid there is also a big difference between getting feeling back in your legs and actually walking again," he added softly.

In other words, Sam thought, don't think this is going to be a breeze.

"I think it's best that you get some rest now, Miss Peterson. I know this must come as a terrible shock."

"You're telling me!" Sam spluttered cheerlessly.

The doctor left Sam and Keith together, but Keith didn't stay long.

"Get some sleep, Sam. It's going to be okay." Gently, he brushed her fringe to the side and kissed her on her temple. "I'll be along later once you've had a nap."

* * *

Despite the panicky thoughts racing through her mind, Sam did manage to sleep with the aid of the drugs being pumped into her bloodstream, but when she awoke, nothing seemed any better. The room was dark but not dark enough to be in the dead of night. Dawn must be breaking, Sam thought. She couldn't hear anything. Everything was quiet in the room except for the gentle snores of the patient in the bed on the other side of the curtain, which was pulled around Sam's bed. She lay with her eyes closed, trying to think clearly. Maybe Keith was here still. She could always talk to her brother.

"Keith? Keith, are you there?" she called softly. There was no reply except for the few birds outside singing their greeting to the morning.

What had happened? Sam asked herself. She had fallen during a cross-country competition with Jetsetter, that much she remembered. Was he all right? He must be all right, she tried to reassure herself. It would be too much to bear if there was something wrong with him too. But what would happen now that she couldn't walk? That meant no riding, so what would happen to the horses? Loyal Jetsetter, darling Malaika, and quirky Hellfire. So different from one another, yet Sam loved them all unconditionally. Reluctantly, she considered the only true option she had. The horses would have to be sold. It was out of the question that they stayed without being ridden, it wouldn't be fair on them. But how could she part with them? The selfish part of her mind wanted to keep them, to stop any more heartbreak. But then Hellfire was so young and full of promise, it would be criminal to keep him.

Tears welled in her eyes and ran down the sides of her face as she thought of a future without Jetsetter and especially Malaika. She and Malaika had been together for so long, had been through so much together. How could she bear it?

* * *

By the time Keith came to see her later, Sam had made her mind up. With Keith was Alison and she came straight up to Sam, no sign of discomfort or awkwardness. She kissed Sam on her forehead.

"Oh, sweetheart, isn't it awful?"

"Yes," Sam replied. She couldn't think of anything else to say. Alison was so lovely and genuine it was impossible to snap at her or make sarcastic remarks like she earlier at the patronising doctor. Her parents would be ashamed of her manners. Her parents?

"Keith, what about Mum and Dad?" she suddenly asked. She couldn't believe she hadn't given them a single thought. "Where are they? Do they know?"

Keith nodded.

"They'll be here soon I hope. I only told them after the doctor gave us his verdict yesterday. They were having that week up in Scotland, do you remember? They left to come home immediately the minute I told them."

"Were they very upset?"

"Understandably so, yes," Keith answered carefully. Their mother hadn't handled the news at all well but he hoped she would have composed herself for Sam's benefit when they finally arrived.

"I know they worried about me riding. I didn't mean to hurt them." Sam said in a small voice.

"Sam, darling," Alison said, cupping her pale and limp hand in her own. "There are risks in everything we do, but that doesn't mean we have to stop living a full life. They know you didn't mean to hurt them."

"I've made such a mess of everything. Is Jetsetter okay, Keith?"

Keith couldn't quite meet her pleading gaze.

"The vet got back to me this morning. It's not good news I'm afraid. Turns out he has chipped his shoulder."

"Oh, no, poor Jets," Sam moaned. "He won't be - he won't be -" A horrible thought drained the blood from her face but she couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

"No, it's all right, Sam," Keith soothed. "He won't be put down. But a chipped shoulder does mean he'll be lame indefinitely."

_What have I done?_ Sam thought, not for the first time. Not only had she ruined her own life with her recklessness but her horse's as well.

"Don't torture yourself, Sam," Keith said, seeing the guilt swimming in her eyes. "Jetsetter loved eventing just as much as you. Try not to blame yourself."

"Will he ever be sound again?"

"It's - it's unlikely. Bt it hasn't been ruled out."

"A bit like me then. This shouldn't happen to us. Not us," Sam said bitterly."No it shouldn't have, but it has and we're going to deal with it. Okay, Sam?" Keith said firmly.

Sam nodded meekly.

"When I was awake earlier this morning, I did some thinking. Thinking what to do with the horses. Well, it seems Jetsetter's future has already been sealed but the other two will have to be sold."

"Oh, Sam, I know how difficult this is for you to do," Keith said, seeing through Sam's callous front.

"It's got to be done though, hasn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it does. Do you want me to put an advert in the local paper?"

"No, I'd like you to put it in _The Equine_ and _Horse & Hound_. That way they've got a better chance of a worthwhile career rather than going to some family who are just going to keep them as pets."

"I'll do that."

Sam gave a sigh of relief. There, it was done. She had got it over and done with. Her words might have sounded hard and callous but inside her heart was breaking. Keith would understand. He'd make sure they went to good homes. She didn't care how much they fetched.

There was a sudden commotion at the door and Sam heard her parents' voices as they burst into the room.

"Oh, Sam, sweetheart, what's happened to you?" he mother cried, rushing over to her bedside.

"Hello, Mum. Hello, Dad. I thought Keith told you."

"Hello, prin-"

"Yes, he did but darling, how are you dealing with it?" Mrs Peterson interrupted her husband. Tears were welling in her eyes and she clutched a handkerchief anxiously. Keith frowned. _Better than you are_, he thought grimly. This was exactly what he was afraid would happen - their mother coming in totally unhinged by the whole episode when Sam needed their strength.

But surprisingly, Sam felt stronger in the face of her mother's weakness.

"As best as I can, Mum. There's no other way."

"Hello, princess," her father finally got a word in. He paused, contemplating what to say next. There didn't seem a lot he could say. "I'm sorry," he finally managed.

"Me too, Dad," Sam said, looking at the solemn figure beside her. He looked tired, his greying hair was untidy from a night's travelling from Scotland, and there was a slight stoop to his usually proud shoulders. He took Sam's hand in his and squeezed it.

"One day at a time, princess. Just take one day at a time."

_**Hi, please leave a review just to let me know what everyone thinks of this story - positive, negative, indifferent, anything helps! And I promise, things do get better! Stay tuned...**_


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Taking one day at a time was exactly what Sam had to do. She often wondered in the long weeks to come as she lay in her hospital bed, if long-term boredom was more treacherous than physical pain. She supposed not, but still couldn't think of anything she had ever experienced more agonising than lying day after day, week after week, on her back watching the shadows on the walls rise and fall with every sun-filled summer day. It was usually at these sunny times that Sam's heartache was greatest.

How she longed to be outdoors! But here she was, at first confined to a bed in hospital then moved to a physical therapy clinic, unable even to be taken outside for a short period. The numerous operations she had endured on her back and neck prevented this. But the doctors did assure her that soon she would be stable enough to be pushed in a wheelchair around the hospital gardens. It was dangerous, she had been told, to risk injuring her neck further at this crucial time so soon after the operations.

So far it had been six weeks and four operations and the last one had been a success apparently. The brace that she had to wear was infuriating. It caused her to sweat more, especially in warmer weather and locked her in a position where it was impossible to move her neck.

The hospital staff had made every effort to make her comfortable but Sam was grateful only to a certain extent. She couldn't help feeling angry and bitter and utterly humiliated sometimes. She didn't mean to snap at the nurse when she came in every morning and asked

"And how are we this morning?"

_How do you think?_ Sam screamed silently. Every day these people go home after their shifts and then don't think of the suffering souls still at the hospital. _Their_ pain didn't stop at the end of a shift. It was never-ending. And, although one half of Sam reasoned that the staff wouldn't be in this sort of job if they didn't care, the other still remained angry.

* * *

Late one afternoon, Sam was dozing when she heard the door softly click open and the voice of one of the nurses say quietly

"Let's see if Sam's awake. I'm sure she'll be pleased to have company."

From the corner of her eye Sam could see the nurse ushering another person into the room. As the two approached the bed and Sam was able to get a better look at them, she recognised the other person as Jo Hamilton-Clarke, the girl who lived on the neighbouring farm to Keith's. Jo had curly, dark red hair cropped short and freckles sprayed all over her face and arms. At fifteen, she was the youngest of four children and the only girl. And, as she was surrounded by boys, she was tough as any of them. Sam didn't think she had ever seen Jo wearing a skirt or make-up. She and her three older brothers had all grown up on horseback. They had known no other home than Four Chimneys Farm and had spent their childhood galloping around bareback on ponies. Jo had often come to visit Sam at Fernleigh and they would ride together, Sam usually on Malaika and Jo on her bay mare, Rosie.

This was the fourth time Jo had come to visit her. The very first time Jo had been nervous and awkward and the whole visit had been a disaster. But with each visit, invariably after an operation, she became more and more relaxed. Sam appreciated her visits. It touched her heart when Jo made the effort to see her, especially as she was under no obligation to do so.

Sam waited for the nurse to leave before speaking.

"Jo, nice to see you again, mate." She noticed Jo was wearing stained and dirty jodhpurs and a shirt, which was obviously a cast-off from one of her brothers.

"And you," Jo said, pulling a chair across to sit near the bottom of the bed where it was easiest for Sam to see her. "How are you?"

"Same as ever, I guess. How 'bout you?"

"Okay thanks," Jo shrugged.

"How's Rosie going?"

"Still ducking out and charging off. She's a terror," she said fondly and grinning.

"Nothing changed there then," Sam chuckled. There was a pause then forlornly Jo said

"We miss you, y'know, all of us."

"And me, Jo. I miss all of you too. It's not the same, is it? When you come here to visit the whole place is like, so unfamiliar and it puts a damper on things, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Jo agreed. "We miss having you at home. Jem especially misses you."

"Poor soul," Sam said, her voice softening as she thought of the boy. "He's only come to visit once, right after the accident, but it's been six weeks now."

"I know he wants to see you really," Jo said quickly. "But you know what he's like. He's being a boy, afraid of uncomfortable situations."

"I thought that as well. This clinic doesn't help either, being so far away from home. I hope he's keeping Jetsetter company. The poor old boy must be terribly lonely without the others around. I suppose there's not a lot else Jem can do."

"I'm sure he keeps himself busy," Jo said quickly. "Barry got his driver's license last week."

Her abrupt change of subject to that one of her brothers baffled Sam but she let it pass.

"That's wonderful," she said instead. "Now he can drive legally."

All four Hamilton-Clarke children had started driving as soon as they could see over the steering wheel and touch the pedals, not necessarily at the same time.

The two chatted amicably for about another quarter of an hour then Jo looked at her watch regretfully.

"I'm going to have to go, I'm afraid. Otherwise I'm going to miss the last bus that goes past the farm. I meant to come earlier but I was held up at the stables."

"No problem, Jo. Thanks for coming. Maybe next time I'll be the one coming to visit you. I want to be out of this place as soon as I can."

"Yes," Jo said brightening up. "That's a date then."

Sam grinned at her as she got up.

"One more thing before you go. Go see Jetsetter and give him a kiss from me. Tell him I miss him loads, too."

"Course I will. I went a few days ago and gave him and M - gave him some carrots," Jo said, pausing in mid sentence and blushing slightly.

"Thanks, Jo. See you soon."

"Bye, Sam." She gave her a thumbs-up before exiting the room.

Sam's brow knitted as she thought about Jo's comment of giving Jetsetter carrots. She had paused and then looked really embarrassed. And earlier she had changed the subject when Sam had mentioned Jem and Jetsetter. Was there something about Jets that she wasn't being told about?

* * *

Despite not having being visited by anyone else, things were starting to look up a couple of days later. She was allowed to go into the gardens surrounding the clinic at last, without too much risk of damaging her vulnerable neck. As the nurse lifted her into a wheelchair from her bed, Sam could hardly breathe because of her excitement.

It might appear really pathetic to be so excited about something so mere, Sam thought, but those weeks of lying in bed had taught her not to take anything for granted. The automatic doors leading outside opened with a whoosh as they approached and Sam breathed in a lungful of clean fresh air, the first untainted, antiseptic-free air since she had been there. It was already early summer and the sun was out, but there was still a slight chill in the softly blowing wind. A smile broke out on Sam's face as she looked around. All the sights and smells and sounds which accompanied each person's day, now felt like a privilege to experience to Sam. The sky was so blue and the grass was so green. She could hear the traffic from the roads beyond the hospital grounds and people talking all around. Admittedly a lot of the people looked rather miserable as they hopped around on crutches with a leg in plaster or a strapped arm, but they didn't dampen her spirits. Sam's nurse, seeing the joy on her face, smiled as well. It was nice to see her looking happy for once.

She pushed Sam around then they stopped for a short while to watch the ducks in a pond. Other people were there, tossing shreds of bread to the animals and watching as they jostled for every morsel. Finally, when Sam was beginning to feel the effects of the chilly wind, the nurse wheeled her back to the entrance.

Later that same day, Alison came to visit. Sam couldn't wait to tell her sister-in-law about her trip outside. It was the first step forward in Sam's mind.

"Oh, how marvellous, Sam!" Alison exclaimed, clapping her hands together when Sam told her. "I am so pleased for you. So will everyone else be when we tell them. Have you told anyone else?"

"No, you're my first visitor today. But it was lovely, Alison, it really was!" Sam enthused. "You wouldn't think something so simple would be so exciting but it was."

"Of course it was. You've been made to lie here in this ghastly place for weeks," Alison protested. "It's something good at last."

"Don't say that sort of thing about the clinic too loud, or they'll throw you out," Sam said grinning. Alison laughed.

"Did they say when you could go out again?"

"Yes, tomorrow if the weather is good."

"Let's keep our fingers crossed then."

They talked easily and later, when Alison was getting ready to go, Sam stopped her.

"Alison, if there was anything wrong with Jetsetter, you'd tell me, right?"

"Sam, of course I would," Alison said looking perturbed. "What makes you think that I wouldn't?"

"I'm sorry, it's silly. It's just that when Jo came to visit a couple of days ago, she kept avoiding the subject whenever I brought up anything about Jetsetter."

Alison paused, and it seemed to Sam as if she was choosing her words carefully.

"Sam, as far as I know, nothing has happened to him, I promise. And I'm sure Keith would tell me if there had."

"Okay, sorry for asking. I guess I've got too much time on my hands and all it's doing is twisting stories in my head."

"I understand, don't worry."

Sam watched Alison leave the room still not convinced. Alison never lied, Sam told herself. If she said there was nothing wrong with Jets then that's what she should believe. But somehow, it didn't stop the voice inside her head telling her she wasn't being told the whole truth.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

The time seemed to go a lot faster now that Sam had a bit more variety to her days, it seemed to her. A week since her last outing, Dr Cooper, who was overseeing her progress visited her unexpectedly. She liked Dr Cooper, and found him very comfortable to be with. He smiled warmly as he walked up to her bedside.

"How are you feeling today? Any pain anywhere?" he asked.

"Only my chest, nothing else that I can feel," Sam replied doubtfully. She had been told early on in her time at the hospital that she had damaged her hip as well, but she had no way of feeling it.

"Good, good. This afternoon I think we should have some X-rays done of your neck just to check on how it is doing."

"Okay," Sam replied warily. She hated going for X-rays. The verdict was always going to be either very good news or very bad news. Sam dreaded to hear any of the latter.

"Then, if all things appear to be as we hope them to be, we should be able to take this brace off you."

Sam's eyes brightened at the thought.

"Really? How soon?"

"If everything looks good then tomorrow morning probably."

"At last!" Sam exclaimed raising her eyes and hands to the ceiling. Dr Cooper laughed.

"I thought you'd like that. We'll take a couple of shots of your hip as well to see how that is coming on. It should have healed by now but it's always good to make sure."

"Thanks, Doc," Sam grinned.

"I've got loads of patients to see this morning so I'd better get moving. Is there anything you need right now?"

"I'd like my X-rays right now," she joked.

"Ha! I'll have the nurse fetch you around four o'clock."

* * *

Sam could hardly sleep for the excitement of having her brace off the next morning. When the X-rays had come back, Dr Cooper had been optimistic about her neck but rather hesitant about her hip. Apparently, it wasn't healing quite as nicely as they thought it would, but nevertheless, it was healing and that was the main thing. It would probably take a little longer than was first expected, the doctor had told Sam. But he had also told her that with the help of the titanium cable they had fused with her spine, her neck was healing nicely and she would definitely be allowed to have the brace off in the morning.

Sam was wide-awake by dawn and couldn't get back to sleep. She lay, watching the shadows of the trees outside dancing on the wall opposite her. Gradually, the softly blurred images became sharper as the sun rose and became brighter. Her chest ached with every breath she took and even the excitement of having the brace off later didn't stop a black mood from settling over her. The suspense was killing her. Finally, after an agonising wait, a nurse came in with some tea.

"Morning, Miss Peterson," she chirped.

"Hi, are you going to take this brace off me?" she asked urgently. The nurse smiled.

"No, I'm not allowed to. The doctor will be in later to do that for you."

"But when's that going to be?" Sam exclaimed. Over-tiredness had made her even more irritable.

"Sometime this morning, I'm sure."

"Can't you go and call him?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't. He's got a busy schedule and it won't be me who disturbs it. Now, have your tea. I'm sure he'll be here shortly."

Sam exhaled loudly through her nostrils, feeling fed up.

_Didn__'__t these people realise how long she had waited for this and now all they did was take their time?

* * *

  
_

Finally, the moment arrived when Sam's brace was to be removed. Slowly, she moved her head to the side, and a little relief seeped through her body. Keith and Alison, who had arrived to celebrate this moment, looked on eagerly.

"So, how does it feel?" Keith asked tentatively.

"Odd," Sam said after a moment's thought.

"Odd? How do you mean?"

"Like my body's in two halves. One half can move and the other feels like it's detached."

"Do you feel any pinches or tweaks?" Dr Cooper asked.

"No," Sam replied uncertainly.

"Marvellous. Hopefully, Sam, you'll be able to go home soon."

* * *

The day she was freed from the clinic wouldn't come soon enough for Sam. Yet, at long last, there she was - being wheeled out through the entrance by Keith with Alison by her side. Sam discovered Keith had exchanged his usual Jeep for a new, specially designed car, which catered for wheelchairs. During the journey home, Keith drove nervously, worried that each bump in the road would jolt his sister.

Sam watched all the familiar sights flash past as they neared Fernleigh Farm, and a lump formed in her throat as they turned into the long drive leading to the house. She felt tears prick behind her eyes when she looked at the sandy track beside the road, long which she had so often ridden her horses. It all seemed so long ago. As they drew up outside the house, Sam was touched to see a group of people standing around, ready to welcome her. Her parents were there, trying to contain their grandchild, Richard, and then Sam's eyes were drawn to another person standing near to them. It was Jem. He stood bow-legged and taller than Sam remembered, wringing his cap anxiously in his hands. She smiled, glad to see the boy she was so fond of.

Gently, Keith manoeuvred the wheelchair out of the car and immediately Mr and Mrs Peterson were by her side, with Richard hopping about in excitement.

"Welcome home, princess," her father said.

One by one, as Keith pushed her up to the house, people - most of them farm workers - came forward to greet her. Jem was ready at the front porch.

"'Allo, Sam," he said awkwardly.

"Jem, great to see you," Sam said smiling up at him. Still in his hands, his cap was being twisted nervously.

"Good to have you home."

"It's good to be home," Sam said frankly. "You been okay?"

"Yeah, fine. How 'bout you?"

"Oh, you know, not all bad."

Jem nodded awkwardly.

"You'll take me to see Jetsetter soon, won't you?"

"All in good time," Keith broke in. "Let's get you settled first."

As they entered the house, Sam noticed the steps everywhere had been made wheelchair-friendly. There was a small ramp next to all of them, which would enable her to travel around freely. Alison showed Sam to her new room on the ground floor of the house. Her old bedroom had been upstairs so now the downstairs study had been converted into sleeping quarters.

Exhausted by such activity, Sam eventually retired to the lounge with the rest of her family for a refreshing cup of tea. Looking through the open glass sliding doors, Sam observed what she could of the farm. She loved the farm so much, she would never tire of looking out over the never-ending rolling hills of countryside. Placing her empty mug carefully on a side table, she wheeled herself through the doors onto the patio. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, drinking in the smell of the country. A high-pitched whinny interrupted her thoughts and her eyes shot open in surprise. She knew that whinny so well she would have been able to identify it from a hundred horses. It could only be one horse and it certainly wasn't Jetsetter. Wheeling herself hurriedly to the side of the patio closest to the paddocks, she looked unbelieving at the red gold body basking in sunshine in the exercise paddock. A footstep sounded behind Sam and she turned to look accusingly at her brother.

"Keith! _What the hell is Malaika still doing here?__"_


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

"I thought I told you to sell her!" Sam raged.

"I couldn't," Keith said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you mean you _couldn't? _She's a brilliant horse, of course you could have sold her!"

"I couldn't bring myself to sell her."

"Why on earth not?"

"Because she was there right at the beginning of everything," Keith said intensely. He swooped down so that he was on eye-level with Sam. "I wanted her to give you something to work towards."

"Keith, open your eyes. I'm in a wheelchair," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"I know that, but you won't be forever."

"There's no guarantee of that," she said bitterly.

"No, but having Malaika here might bring you some sort of incentive."

"What do I need an incentive for?"

"To get better."

"What, and you don't think I want to get better as it is?" she said sarcastically.

"No, of course I don't think that."

"And what exactly is Malaika going to do while I sit here? You just going to let her get bored in the paddock?"

"Well, we could lease her out. It's a bit late in the breeding season to put her in foal."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, Keith! Why couldn't you have sold her when I told you to! Next you're going to tell me Hellfire is still here too - is he?"

"No, he's not," Keith assured her evenly. "But Malaika's keeping Jetsetter company. And I'm sure he's glad of that."

The mention of Jetsetter suddenly flushed all the anger out of Sam but left her full of remorse and renewed guilt.

"Jetsetter," she whispered.

"Do you want to go see him?" Keith asked gently.

Doubt swam in her eyes. She didn't know whether she could bring herself to look at Jetsetter. Not after what she had put him through. She had been so positive earlier on when she had told Jem that she wanted to see her horse, yet now her shame stopped her from doing so. Keith saw the uncertainty in Sam's face and said

"Maybe later, hmm? Give you a while to settle in."

Sam nodded and Keith stood up to push her back inside.

"One thing though," Sam stopped him. "Is Malaika the reason nobody wanted to talk about him to me?"

Now it was his time to nod ruefully.

"And is that why Jem never came to see me?"

"I suspect so, yes. But whatever the reason, I know he always wanted to."

"Who did Hellfire go to?" she asked haltingly. This was the first time she and Keith had spoken about the sale of the horses ever since their first conversation when she had told him to sell them. It had been an unspoken agreement between them that they wouldn't discuss the details. Sam had taken it for granted that Keith would have sorted everything out by now.

"A girl from up north. Her name is Ruth Redman. You heard of her?"

"No, but was she good? I mean, was she a capable rider?"

"Yes, she was, don't worry about that. I'm sure he'll do very well under her."

"Okay then," Sam said, half to herself. Keith walked round and pushed Sam back inside with a heavy heart. He had known there would be fireworks when she found out about Malaika but he had underestimated how heart-wrenching it had been trying to convince her it had been the right thing to do. On top of that, he hadn't realised the guilt that she carried over Jetsetter's lameness was so strong.

* * *

For the next couple of days, Sam tried to sum up the courage to go down to see the horses but failed miserably. She had been out onto the patio so see Malaika grazing in the small paddock in front of the stables, knowing there was no chance of seeing Jetsetter because he was still confined to his loose box.

Finally, on a warm summer's evening as dusk was falling, Sam quietly left the house and, with some difficulty, wheeled her way down the dirt track to the stables. The whitewashed walls of the stable block were bathed pink from the setting sun and long shadows of the surrounding pine trees stroked the darkening paddocks. Certain that Jem had been and gone, she took a deep breath and turned the corner of the block onto the cobbled walkway. With some relief she saw that none of the horses had their heads over their doors but it didn't make that much difference because soon now she would see Malaika and Jetsetter, and then she would have to try apologising to Jetsetter in a way in which he would hopefully be able to understand. She stiffened involuntarily when she heard a snort from one of the boxes then hesitantly carried on, bumping over the uneven cobbled ground. She stopped outside the first occupied stable. As if sensing her presence, Malaika's head appeared over the half door.

_Goodness, I'd forgotten how beautiful she is_, Sam thought with an intense rush of emotion. _How could I have ever considered parting with her?_

The mare's light chestnut forelock fell like threads of golden silk over her big dark eyes. Her nostrils flared as she whickered softly to Sam.

"Hello, Mally. How are you, my sweetheart?" she said tenderly. Gently she ran her fingers through her forelock and traced the curve of her forehead down to her dished nose as the mare leaned over the door. "It's been a long time. I'm sorry I haven't been here."

She knew now full-heartedly that she never wanted Malaika to leave Fernleigh, selfish as she might be.

"Have you been getting bored? You've been keeping Jets company though, haven't you?"

Malaika flung her head up in the air, tossing it up and adown and splaying her forelock over her wide forehead and Sam smiled at the question the mare had unwittingly just answered. She turned to look at the neighbouring stable door, knowing she couldn't put it off any longer. With a whispered farewell to Malaika she pushed herself up to the second door.

"Jetsetter," she whispered, her voice wavering. She could hear him crunching his hay inside. "Jetsetter, come here, boy," she said louder. The crunching stopped then she heard him exhale loudly, like he did when he was nervous or unsure of something. The next moment his head was thrust over the door, searching for where his mistress' voice had come from. Then looking down and seeing her, he again exhaled, blowing warm breath down Sam's neck. She looked up at him, a lump rising in her throat as her heart softened with love. She reached up and touched his black velvet muzzle, running her fingers between his nostrils and along his lips. His ears were pricked forward and his eyes glistened with joy at seeing his mistress again.

"Hello, darling," she said weakly. Jetsetter butted her hand and whickered softly. "I'm sorry." The words came trembling from Sam's mouth. Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She ran her hand over his nose and his cheek. "I didn't mean to hurt you." She swallowed hard before carrying on. "You know that, don't you? I never wanted to hurt you."

Jetsetter, sensing Sam's distress, strained further over the stable door and pushed his nose against her face.

"I don't know what else to do, Jets. I don't know what else I can say. I'm sorry, so very, _very _sorry. I don't know if I can forgive myself. I don't know if you can forgive me. I'm so sorry." The tears flowed freely and her shoulders shook as she broke down in shame. Jetsetter whickered again, clumsily pushing Sam's shoulder in a vain effort to comfort her. What was there to forgive after all? His mistress had appeared, long after he had given up hope of ever seeing her again after he had failed her. Here was one happy horse.

* * *

The summer was one of the hottest Sam had ever experienced. Day after day the sun scorched down relentlessly, turning the grass brown and wilting all the wild flowers surrounding the house. A gloom, as suffocating as the heat, settled over Sam now that she was out of hospital. The things that had contributed to the life Sam had once had still surrounded her, as if taunting her, and she found it more and more difficult to come to terms with her paralysis. Most mornings were spent back at the clinic, where she was an outpatient and the rest of her time she remained largely indoors to avoid the heat but one afternoon she forced herself to brave the weather. She waited, prepared, for the first people to come view Malaika to possibly lease her. They had only advertised locally as Sam didn't want the mare to leave the comfort of Fernleigh and the company of Jetsetter so not as much interest was sparked since most people wouldn't agree to her conditions. The prospective viewers arrived at last and feeling disloyal, Sam took them down to the stables. There was a woman named Mrs Warren and her son, Liam, a thickset boy with a bad complexion and a wet sulky mouth. Sam took an instant dislike to both of them. Nevertheless, she asked Jem to saddle up the mare when they reached the stables and managing not to look Malaika in the eye, led them to the school. Liam, who couldn't have been more than fifteen, sat too far back in the saddle and held the reins too tight in clumsy fistfuls. Sam tried to ignore this and went to watch with his mother from the side of the ring.

"Doesn't he look a picture?" Mrs Warren said proudly.

Sam bit her tongue, resisting the urge to say

"Yes, if you're interested in potato sacks" but managed to keep quiet.

Malaika was in high spirits after her long lay off and pranced round the ring with her head and tail held high. Liam bounced around in the saddle and only his uncompromising hold on the reins stopped him from losing complete control. With a supreme effort Sam watched silently as the boy tried to walk, trot, canter and gallop. The jumps which stood sparsely around the paddock, had been lowered in readiness for Malaika's trials and the boy at last attempted one. Sam winced as he caught Malaika in the mouth on landing then he sawed on the reins to slow her down afterwards. Becoming bolder, he turned sharply at another jump, taking Malaika completely by surprise and she skidded away from it at the wing. Only by hanging onto her mane for hear life did Liam stay aboard. He circled at a canter and again turned at an even sharper angle to the jump. Malaika slammed on brakes and slid right up to the jump on braced feet. The boy angrily jerked her mouth and raised his riding crop to strike her.

"Enough!" Sam shouted, unable to take any more. "Don't you dare hit her. Get off her right now!"

"Well, I never!" Mrs Warren said in shocked tones. "Are you trying to lease her out or not?"

"To someone who can ride. Tell your son to get off, Malaika's not the horse for him."

Two minutes later, she watched mother and son departing and with a resigned sigh turned away.

_One down, two to go._


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next people who were interested in Malaika were Felicity, a girl with long golden locks of hair and big watery blue eyes and her mother, Mrs Carlton. To Sam's mind, Felicity looked like a china doll, dressed prettily in expensive jodhpurs and long shining boots and a velvet riding helmet but the extra tilt which she held her head at, gave Sam the impression she wasn't quite as angelic as she looked. However, she knew appearances could be deceiving so she gave Felicity the benefit of the doubt. Mounted on Malaika she looked very pretty and although a little stiff, sat correctly and didn't hold the reins too tightly and Sam smiled encouragingly at her but as soon as they got into the school her fears were realised. The moment Malaika broke into trot, the girl made an ironing board look flexible. With her back rod-straight she bounced about in the saddle, not trying in the least to post.

"Let's see her canter now, dear," Mrs Carlton called, clapping her gold-ringed hands together. Being the obliging horse she was, Malaika made a smooth transition into canter despite the spine-jolting presence of her rider. Gradually with each stride Felicity wobbled more and more to the side and before she had done one circuit in a canter she had fallen to the ground with an ungraceful bump. Sam tried not to laugh as the china doll leapt to her feet, brushing down her clothes and patting her golden curls around her shoulders. Instead Sam thanked Jem who was retrieving a surprised-looking Malaika. Jem had no such reserves and was grinning broadly. Again, Felicity mounted and attempted a canter.

"Okay, Felicity. Show Miss Peterson how well you can jump," Mrs Carlton called shrilly then on a quieter note to Sam she said, "She's being coached by the best trainer in the South at the moment. Monica Harrison thinks she's got bags of talent."

In a ragged trot, Felicity somehow managed to steer Malaika towards a small crossbar. Realising they were about to do her favourite pastime, Malaika's head lifted and her ears pricked forward. She broke into canter and rose fluently over the tiny jump. Felicity bounced once like she was on a trampoline and sailed through the air, landing on the ground before Malaika touched down. Sam couldn't help herself and snorted with amusement. Mrs Carlton's neck and face flushed pink as her daughter sprung to her feet, threw down her whip and stomped her foot.

"That's it! I don't want a pony! I don't care what you might think Mummy, I don't want to ride anymore!"

As mother and daughter departed, their backs straight and noses in the air, Sam couldn't stop giggling and Jem was doubled up with restrained laughter.

"Thank goodness for that," Jem giggled, wiping his eyes. "Can you imagine that lot coming here every day to ride, yeah?"

Sam shook her head in disbelief.

* * *

The next day was Saturday and Malaika's next viewer was due to arrive at ten o'clock. Sam was slightly taken aback when she saw only a girl by herself, clutching her riding hat nervously and walking uncertainly towards her.

"Hi," Sam said, trying to act cheerful and as friendly as she could in the face of the girl's obvious nerves. "Emma, right?"

"Yes. Emma Gordon," the girl said shaking Sam by the hand. Her hair, tied back into a ponytail, was shiny blonde. Her skin was very smooth and her cheeks were rosy and she had big blue eyes fringed with long dark lashes.

"Have you come alone?"

"Yes, my father would be here but he's working today," Emma replied. "He doesn't like horses much anyhow."

Going down the dirt road to the stables, Sam tried to make conversation.

"So do you live in town, Emma or are you from around the country here?"

"Not far from here, so more or less in the country. I've only just moved here recently with my father."

"Have you owned a horse before?"

"No. There was a riding school just down the road from us where we used to live and I used to help out exercising the ponies. Jan, the lady who ran the place was very good about letting me ride. She was also a fantastic teacher," Emma said enthusiastically. "It's only now with my father's new job that we can actually afford my riding."

"You been riding long?"

"About seven years now, yes. I started when I was about nine."

Their progress to the stables was slow as Sam cautiously manoeuvred her wheelchair along the stubbly track. Emma shortened her stride so she stayed alongside Sam.

Sam watched, impressed as Emma helped Jem saddle up Malaika, the girl making doubly sure the flash noseband and the throat lash weren't too tight. The mare wasn't being accommodating as she tossed her head and stamped her hooves, impatient to be ridden. Finally, Emma led her out of the stable. The mare danced over the cobbles, swinging her hindquarters and pulling on the reins. Somehow, Emma managed to tighten the girth and pull down the stirrup to mount. She hopped twice then swung her leg over the skittish mare. Malaika gave a tiny rear and twirled around. Sam knew she was being naughty but it was also a good way of finding out how competent Emma was.

"Take her down to the school over there. I'll catch up," she said.

Emma relaxed the hold she had on the reins and Malaika leapt forward. Sam smiled as she watched the mare bouncing down the track with Emma sitting bolt upright in the saddle. Negotiating the track to the school was going to be even harder for Sam because it was in a worse condition than the one leading from the house to the stables and the downpour they had had overnight hadn't helped.

* * *

Emma's own nerves weren't helping Malaika's performance. Her hopes that Malaika would calm down slightly when they were inside the arena were dashed when the mare proceeded to canter sideways down the one side. She looked down at her whitened knuckles. She couldn't help clenching her hands.

_Relax_, she tried to tell herself. _Just relax. You've ridden worse-behaved horses than this_. She saw Sam approaching the arena fence with Jem and she took a deep breath. She drew on the reins, trying to bring Malaika back to a walk but all it served was to bring her head up and lower her quarters. Quickly she used her legs to stop her from rearing then had to pull sharply back when Malaika took off.

_It's all a disaster!_ Emma panicked,_ I can't ride her._

Sam studied them from the fence. She knew Malaika needed delicate handling and because of her months of lazing in the paddock, she was likely to misbehave even more. Emma now had the mare straightened out but she was still cantering on the spot. She left them for a couple of minutes then realising she wanted the girl to succeed she called out

"Relax, Emma. The more you tense up, the more uptight she's going to get. Relax your hands. Relax your legs, you're gripping her so tight she thinks you want to go forward." She saw Emma visibly loosen her hold on the mare. Malaika took advantage of her freedom and took off. Immediately Emma's hands shot up as she tried to pull up.

"Put your hands down. Don't hold the reins too tight. Take her into a circle," Sam found herself instructing. Malaika slowed down to a bouncy canter.

"Hold the reins just so that you can feel her mouth. You don't want to saw her back teeth out. Use your legs, so you've got some impulsion. She's obviously not going to walk so send her into a trot."

Emma squeezed with her calves, not believing it would make things better to get moving at a steady pace but surprisingly Malaika did just that. It was a rather rushed trot but a trot nevertheless.

"Slow your rising," Sam called.

Again, Emma did as she was told and again, Malaika complied by slowing her pace. Sam made a note of not saying any more for a while. She had to remember that this was not a lesson but a trial with a potential customer. She was impressed with the girl's riding and despite her stiffness, had soft hands and a good seat. The pair trotted around the school and when Malaika began to trot faster, Emma guided her in a circle to slow her down. Now that she more or less had control of her mount she tried to bring Malaika on the bit. Gently she squeezed her inside rein and touched the girth with her heels and after a couple of moments Malaika responded by cresting her neck and softening her jaw.

* * *

The two trotted in circles and figures of eight and serpentines and soon Malaika was sweating profusely. The reason for this, despite the warm summer air was because she was so unfit. Her months out at grass hadn't done much for her figure either. She was as fat as a pig. Emma clucked her tongue and squeezed with her legs, asking the mare to change up into canter. She gloried at how comfortable the Anglo Arab was to ride when she was working smoothly. She could carry a glass of water and not spill a drop.

"Okay Emma," Sam called out. "How about trying a jump now?"

Emma nodded. She let Malaika trot round the circle, then the mare sensed they were going to jump and began pulling. As they turned to face a small cross she leapt into canter, plunging forward. She shook her head when Emma pulled back, trying to regain some control.

"Leave her head alone," Sam directed. Emma hesitated momentarily then released the tight hold she had and Malaika bolted forward and catapulted over the fence. She tore around the perimeter of the school with Emma trying in vain to stop her. Sam grinned.

_Malaika loves to jump, let there be no mistake_.

"Circle her. Bring her back under control. Now back into a trot. That's it, steady. Whoa, Mally, slowly now. Circle her again but closer to the jump so that have less of an approach distance," Sam instructed. Far from being a trial, she was finding it hard not to tell Emma what to do on Malaika and how to do it.

Their second attempt was a lot more successful and Emma was able to recover more control on landing than before. She guided Malaika towards an upright fence, which the mare arched over with inches to spare. She brought her back to trot, rode a circle then turned to another jump, a parallel this time. Again, the mare never hesitated and flew over. Emma revelled in the excitement but wasn't prepared for the massive buck Malaika put in after they had landed. Caught unawares, Emma went sailing through the air and landed with a thud. Seeing she was unhurt, Jem grinned as he went jogging after Malaika who was bouncing happily around the ring.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked.

"Yes, fine," Emma replied, rubbing her slightly bruised rear. She thanked Jem when he led a merry-looking Malaika up to her and accepted the leg up he offered.

"Just try a couple more jumps then that should be enough," Sam said.

_Oh no!_ Emma thought in panic. _I've blown it! She doesn't want me to ride Malaika now!_

"Okay," she said despondently. "I really like her though."

"Then in that case," Sam smiled, "we can go back to the house and discuss terms. Can't have Malaika getting any fatter in that field than she already is so we're going to need you."

Emma grinned broadly, happy once more. _Here begins the start of something good._


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

That night, as she lay in bed trying to get to sleep, Sam's thoughts turned once more to Emma and Malaika. She stared up at the ceiling, her covers thrown off to escape from the air's humid grip. It was so hot she couldn't sleep. She tried to remember the last time she had seen someone else ride Malaika before these past couple of days. It must have been the day she had gone to try her out. That was more than five years ago. _Five years._ It must have been weird for Malaika as well, Sam supposed. When you have the same rider for so long then suddenly a new one comes along it must feel rather odd. Why was she doing this? Malaika was her horse, no one else was supposed to ride her! Why should she let Emma ride Malaika? What had she done to deserve riding such a special horse? Nearly every time Sam had ridden her she had felt privileged to be in such a partnership. But now their partnership had ended and Emma would be taking over. She didn't want that to happen! What if Malaika preferred Emma's riding to her own? Grimly, Sam decided she would tell Emma she had changed her mind. They hadn't signed anything yet. They would have had to wait until Mr Gordon had some spare time before anything was made final. She should have said something before! But even after they had spoken about the lease and discussed getting Emma's father to sign the papers, why hadn't she said something then? It wasn't really fair on Emma, she knew. Maybe she hadn't had time to think about it properly, Sam decided. Hadn't had time to think of the consequences of letting some other person ride her beloved horse.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Sam was silent. This wasn't unusual because of the gloomy cloud that had hung over her lately, but Keith noticed she was quieter than normal.

"Something the matter?" he asked casually before crunching on some toast.

Sam grunted. He had a pretty good idea what was bothering her.

"Is Emma coming to ride again today?" he probed.

Sam chewed her food silently before replying.

"Yes."

"Is that what's making you so quiet?"

"Maybe," Sam mumbled.

"You weren't thinking of telling Emma that it was all off, were you?"

Sam stared at her bowl of cereal and didn't meet Keith's enquiring gaze.

"I don't think she's good enough."

"She looked pretty good to me yesterday when I saw you all down at the school."

"Well, you weren't right there! You can't tell from such a distance."

"Come on, Sam," Keith said in exasperation. "What's the real reason you don't want her coming here?"

"Just leave it, Keith. It's got nothing to do with you," Sam said, regretting the nastiness in her tone.

"On the contrary. It has a lot to do with me. For starters, it's my farm Malaika is on."

"Well, you should've sold her when I asked you to."

"And second of all, you're my sister," Keith said ignoring her spiteful words. "And I can see something's eating you and it's not that Emma's a bad rider."

"Malaika's my horse, okay? I'll do what I want with her," Sam said through gritted teeth and fixing her brother with a piercing glare.

"Letting Emma ride her isn't going to stop Malaika from being yours, Sam. No one can love her as much as you. Don't think Emma's going to come between the two of you."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam said helplessly.

"Just give her a chance, Sam. Please."

She hesitated.

"Fine," she sighed at last. Putting her spoon down in her empty cereal bowl, she spun her chair round and exited the room.

* * *

Just because Sam had agreed to let Emma ride Malaika didn't mean she made life easy for the girl. So eaten up with jealousy that someone else was able to ride her horse that she took a lot of it out on Emma. The young sixteen-year-old was, at first, hurt and confused by Sam's sudden temper flares but after a while realised how difficult it must be for her to see someone else on her horse. Despite these rages, she and Malaika were getting on like a house on fire. She had never known such a comfortable horse or one so enthusiastic. The ponies she had ridden at Jan's riding school were nothing compared to Malaika. The mare was sweet-natured and her outbursts of disobedience were really only due to over-excitement. Emma's confidence grew stronger and stronger as the days went by and not even Sam's sometimes disdainful attitude towards her could quell her enthusiasm. She became bolder when jumping and with Malaika she wasn't afraid to try the higher fences. Jumps which Emma would, in the past, have had to screw up the courage to attempt now didn't bother her at all. It was usually at times when Emma and Malaika were doing really well together than Sam became grumpier but despite this, Emma liked having Sam around to help and advise her on her riding and encouraged her to join them down in the paddock as much as she could. When Emma wasn't riding, Sam's attitude became lighter and they found they really got on very well with each other. She knew that it would just take a bit of time for Sam to get used to Malaika being ridden by someone other than herself.

One morning Emma arrived at the house clad in jodhpurs and clutching her riding hat, eager to ride Malaika. She and Sam made their way down to the stables being buffeted by a strong wind. The trees along the way struggled to stay upright, their branches being whipped into a frenzy like a flailing swimmer trying to stay above water. Down at the stable yard, Malaika was huddled next to the few trees in the exercise paddock, avoiding the full force of the gale.

While Emma went to catch the mare, Sam continued on to the stables to find Jem. He emerged from one of the boxes with a pitchfork in his hands.

"Morning, Sam," he said, his words immediately being whipped away by the wind.

"Hello, Jem. Nice breeze blowing today, eh?"

Jem chuckled.

"Only slightly. I tell you what, if we attach a sail to your chair you wouldn't have to wheel yourself anywhere, the wind would carry you."

Sam laughed, thinking how relaxed Jem had become about her disability compared to when she had first arrived back from hospital. Then he had been squirming awkwardly whenever he spoke to her.

Seeing Emma leading the Anglo Arab mare through the paddock gate, he automatically downed his tools and went to fetch Malaika's tack.

Once the mare had been saddled and Emma was astride, Jem turned to Sam.

"Do you need my help today?" he enquired hopefully. For the past few days all Malaika had been doing was flatwork.

"Yes please. Do you want to do a bit of jumping today?" she asked Emma.

"Oh, yes please!"

"Okay then, thanks Jem. If you'd like to help with the jumps?"

* * *

While Emma warmed up Malaika, trotting and cantering her around, Sam directed jump operations to Jem. Gradually a course took shape. The young groom had dismantled the six jumps in the paddock to make four, including a fan and a triple. The smallest, which was a parallel, stood at three foot six and the tallest was a vertical standing five foot. Sam knew they were being a bit ambitious since Emma had rarely jumped anything beyond four foot six but she trusted the girl would manage all right, especially since she knew Malaika was very capable.

Sam called Emma over once they had finished.

"Jump the parallel twice, first on one rein then on the other. Then I want you to circle right round and jump the fan in the middle. Land on the opposite lead and steady her for the vertical. With so much propulsion for the fan I suggest you do a half halt before going for the vertical, okay? It's about five foot so have your wits about you. Then circle on the same rein and do the triple down the long side. It's homeward bound so be prepared for a tearaway leap over that."

Emma nodded silently and gathered up her reins. Malaika was sulking because she didn't want to work in such windy conditions but she perked up when she realised she was going to jump. Sam exited the ring and took refuge beneath a big tree by the ringside, sheltering from the elements. She admired Emma's riding as the girl expertly put the chestnut mare over the parallel twice. Her riding had improved so much it was hard to believe that not so long ago she had been nervous of putting Malaika over a pole two feet off the ground. The next jump was the fan, an obstacle constructed from a single wing on one side and three on the other, with poles set at various heights, all protruding from the single wing and fanning out to the other three like splayed fingers. Neither Malaika nor Emma had had a lot of experience with this sort of jump and they approached it with trepidation. Sam nodded approvingly as the pair cleared it in good style and steadied for the vertical. Malaika gathered her hindquarters and leapt into the air, clearing the jump by a few inches. They turned to the last jump which, as Sam had predicted, Malaika flew over like a bullet.

"Great! Well done, that was good," Sam called. "Now try the fan, then the vertical then the triple and lastly the parallel."

Emma was still in the process of trying to pull up and pat Malaika at the same time. The mare eventually slowed down and after doing a twenty metre circle tackled the fan again. But just as the mare was about to take off, a particularly violent gust of wind ricocheted off one of the wings. The wavering object took Malaika by surprise and she jammed on brakes, hitting the poles with her chest and sending Emma shooting over her head. Sam froze in horror, a nauseous feeling in her stomach as she recalled her own accident and her broken neck. Jem, who was still in the ring ready to replace fallen poles, rushed over and grabbed Malaika's reins. Quickly, Sam wheeled herself through the gate towards Emma, who was thankfully, now sitting up with her elbows on her knees.

"Are you okay?" Sam fretted. Seeing her pale stricken face and realising she was reliving her own fateful fall, Emma smiled reassuringly.

"I'm fine. Don't worry, Sam. I've just bruised myself. Is Mally okay, Jem?"

"She appears to be," he replied, walking the shaken mare forward a few steps.

"Then I guess you two had better do it again. If she gets a fright like this we can't have her losing her nerve. Or your nerve for that matter."

Emma nodded bleakly and got slowly to her feet and dusted off her dirty jodhpurs. She didn't let on just how much the fall had rattled her and she was feeling a lot more bruised than she let on but she knew Sam was right. She had to do the jump again. She patted Malaika and spoke softly to her while Jem held the reins for her to mount. Once on top, she clicked her tongue and sent Malaika into a trot then canter. They attempted the jump again but Malaika hesitated at the last moment and stopped short. Emma was ready for her refusal but even then was shot up the chestnut's neck. She wriggled back into the saddle and let the mare stand there for a while, gently soothing, patting and stroking her neck. Then once more she turned Malaika away for another attempt. Malaika approached the jump warily and not quite straight as she tried to stay as far away as possible from the offending wing. Putting all her confidence in her rider she leapt over the jump, clearing it by a couple of feet and even higher than the wings. Emma laughed happily as they landed and patted the mare enthusiastically.

"Didn't know if we were going to come down from there!" she called out to Sam. Sam smiled and sighed, relieved that there was no lasting damage done to horse or rider.

* * *

A couple of weeks later Emma and Sam made their way slowly back to the house after a ride for an orange juice. Emma was unusually quiet. She didn't know how she would break her news to Sam.

Once they were sitting outside on the patio Sam broke the silence.

"What's on your mind?"

"Hmm? I was just thinking how much you and Mally have taught me. I can't thank you enough."

"I'll remind you of that the next time when I'm moody and crabby and biting everyone's heads off," Sam said dryly. Emma laughed.

"To think what my riding was like when I first started on Malaika. Goodness, I could hardly trot without stirrups."

"You still can't," Sam teased.

"Seriously though," Emma said trying to stop giggling. "You have done so much to help me and my riding."

Sam squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

"I'm the one who should be thanking _you_. Without you and Mally, I would still be moping around the house giving everyone hell - well, more than I do already. I wonder if Mally helps Jetsetter. There he is, lame as a three-legged donkey. I wonder if Mally comforts him when he's feeling miserable." Sam hoped so. It broke her heart to see Jetsetter, such a big powerful horse, now hobbling around, only allowed out for short walks about the paddock. Sometimes, when Sam saw him in his stable with his head down and his ears flopping sideways, she wondered if he was just dozing or instead if he was depressed and dejected. Maybe it was selfish to keep him alive if he was so sad, Sam pondered. But to put him down was unthinkable. What if one day his lameness was cured? As long as there was hope, there was life.

"There is one thing I wanted to ask you," Emma said gingerly, bringing Sam back from her thoughts.

"Hmm? What's that?"

"I know how you and Malaika have achieved great things in the past and you, more than likely, were going on to even greater things, right?"

"Supposedly so," Sam replied bitterly. "Huntingdon was going to be our next goal."

"Funny you should say that," Emma chuckled nervously. "That's what I'd like to ask you. Would you allow me to take Malaika to Huntingdon?"


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Sam slowly raised her eyebrows in disbelief as she looked at Emma incredulously. She wouldn't have been more surprised if Emma had said she wanted to take Malaika to the moon.

"You want to go to Huntingdon?" she managed finally.

"Yes," Emma said with more conviction. "I want to win and I want to bring a cup home to put beside all your others."

"You'd do that for me?"

Emma nodded silently, now slightly embarrassed.

"You've taught me how to ride really."

"But you don't need to do that for me," Sam exclaimed. "Hell, you don't have to do anything for me. You do enough as it is."

"But I want to. Not only for you but for Malaika as well. She should be given the chance to have a crack at Huntingdon."

Sam nodded grimly, understanding what Emma might unknowingly be saying. There was no guarantee that she would ever walk again, never mind ride and given the opportunity, Malaika should go to Huntingdon, even if she, Sam, wasn't the one up on her back.

"Yes, I s'pose she should be given the chance. But Huntingdon? Huntingdon is very big and very daunting. And you have to be good enough to qualify. It's not just a matter of rocking up on the big day and entering," Sam cautioned.

"I guess we'll just have to see how tough we really are then," she shrugged.

* * *

Emma wasn't feeling quite so confident as she sat on Malaika's back at Lymington, the first of the qualifying shows she and Sam had selected for their debut.

"Are you all set?" Sam asked.

"I - I think so," Emma replied hesitantly.

"You know the course?"

"Yes - yes, I think so."

Sam smiled up at the girl on her horse. Her face was full of apprehension and so unsure.

"You'll be fine, Emma," Sam said soothingly.

"I hope so. But what if I have three refusals at the first fence?"

"You won't. Malaika wouldn't do that to you."

"That combination looks awfully big."

"It isn't as big as you think it is," Sam reassured her. "Just ride like you've been doing at the paddock at home and help Malaika as much as you can. She loves the limelight so she'll take you round fine."

"Well, here goes," Emma said taking a deep breath as the collecting steward beckoned her forward.

"Good luck," Sam called after her.

Emma rode into the ring feeling vulnerable with everybody's eyes on her. The bell rang and she hurriedly pushed Malaika into canter. The mare was being so calm, as if she could feel the girl's insecurity and was doing her best to reassure her. Going through the Start they approached the first jump, which loomed forbiddingly. Malaika, left to her own devices as Emma froze in fear, gathered herself and flew over without touching. Emma was thrown onto her neck and clutched desperately at the chestnut mane. Scrambling back into the saddle, she just managed to turn to face the second jump. This was smaller than the first and she felt a trickle of confidence seep back into her body. Feeling for more contact on the reins, she pressed firmly with her legs and barely moved in the saddle as Malaika soared over. Her fears were rapidly disappearing and she was no longer aware of the crowds surrounding the arena watching her. All she focussed on was the next ten jumps to be tackled and the horse beneath her. Bravely, the pair challenged each obstacle surely and with seemingly apparent ease.

Sam, sitting at the ringside, knew the feelings which Emma was experiencing. All the energy of nerves, fear, excitement and daring all channelled into one to exude almost military precision in every move. She watched breathlessly, urging horse and rider on. Involuntarily, she leaned forward in her chair as they cleared each fence. At last Emma and Malaika turned to face the last three jumps - the treble combination. Emma's face clouded with uncertainty and she hesitated in her urgings, causing Malaika to pause as well. They tapped the first element but it didn't fall. Courageously Malaika dug in and soared over the second but Emma seemed paralysed in the saddle and was more hindrance than help. She caught Malaika in the mouth as they landed and the mare checked herself before attempting the last jump. It was a fatal move and the top pole toppled onto the springy turf below.

Disappointed, Sam sighed, but only for a moment. What a round! Although absolutely terrified, Emma had ridden a huge course and so competently for her first time out.

"Emma, that was so good!" she exclaimed when she met her and Malaika coming through the gate. Emma's face-splitting grin was enough to see how pleased she was.

"Wasn't Malaika a sweetheart?" she crowed, patting the mare. "She didn't put a foot wrong. She would've cleared the last if I hadn't jabbed her in the mouth."

"You both did brilliantly."

"I suppose we're out of the placings though, aren't we? There's bound to be loads of clear rounds."

To both Sam and Emma's delight, there were only two clear rounds and another person with four faults who had a faster time than them. Emma very proudly rode Malaika back into the ring to accept her green rosette for fourth place.

* * *

Sam found the next month was full of activity. Since they only had six months before Huntingdon, they would need to accumulate as many points as possible, so they had arranged to go to two other shows within the next month. The work they gave Malaika was gruelling as a late summer heatwave enveloped the county and the ground became hard and difficult to jump on. Jem spent a lot of time hosing down Malaika's legs after each exercise. But it looked like the weather was going to break on the afternoon scheduled for their next show. Menacing black clouds hung low over the horizon and the air was heavy with humidity. Malaika was sweating up more than usual as Emma stretched her legs so she trotted over to Sam.

"What say we watch a few rounds before I give Mally a final warm up?" she suggested, drawing to a halt beside Sam. But Sam wasn't listening. She was glaring over at the far side of the paddock.

"That sort of riding makes me sick," she growled.

"Sam?" Emma said doubtfully. Sam's attention wavered for a second and she glanced up at her friend.

"Look at that over there," she said throwing her hand towards the other end of the field. "They've been jumping that horse and knocking it about for the past twenty minutes."

Emma turned to look into the distance where she could see a horse being jumped over a high upright while standing nearby was a short overweight man in a tweed suit shouting out orders. His voice, raised in anger, drifted over to them when the horse knocked off the top pole. The next time the horse tried to jump he slashed a dressage whip hard across the its shins. Emma looked revolted while Sam bristled with rage.

"Who is he?" Emma asked in disgusted tones.

"Leon Brooke. He's owned loads of show jumpers and point-to-pointers. Don't know who the rider is though. Whoever it is must have a sick mind to work for that rat."

"But he shouldn't be allowed to have horses if that's how he treats them. It's illegal to do that to horses, surely," Emma protested.

"There's no proof that he mistreats horses. He keeps them in good condition. They're always healthy. But when they come out of his yard they're nervous wrecks. Some of them are useless afterwards."

"Why doesn't anyone report him?"

"There's nothing to report. There's no law against using the whip. There is against rapping a horse's legs and I'm sure he does that too."

"Rapping?"

"Lifting a pole while a horse is jumping so that he hits it with his legs and jumps higher the next time," Sam explained.

"That is sick," Emma agreed.

At that moment it appeared Leon Brooke and his jockey decided to end their jumping session and, while Leon Brooke waddled over to one of the hospitality tents, the horse and rider jogged over in the direction of the girls and the main collecting ring. Emma sat on Malaika watching them in stunned silence. It didn't make sense that anybody would want to be that cruel to a horse on purpose. The approaching rider took off his riding helmet as he got closer and ran a hand through a thick blond fringe. For a moment Sam was jolted out of her indignation. She judged him to be maybe nineteen or twenty and she had never seen such perfect bone structure. His jaw line was strong and between high cheekbones a straight narrow nose ran down to a teasing, laughing mouth. For the first time Sam sat in awe of such good looks.

"Err, Sam…" Emma prompted, now slightly amused by her friend's surprise. Sam came back down to earth with a bump and setting her mouth in a grim line, she wheeled herself into the path of the young man and his horse. He quickly pulled his horse to one side, just avoiding a collision.

"Watch it there!" he exclaimed in a concise and cultured accent. "What are you doing?"

"Funny, that was the same question I was about to ask you," Sam snarled.

"Excuse me? Do I know you?"

"I see Leon Brooke's up to his dirty tricks again," she said ignoring his question. To give him his due she saw a flicker of guilt sweep across his face, but this was quickly replaced by anger.

"I'm sorry but I don't know what you're talking about," he said with feigned politeness.

"You know exactly what I'm -"

"Perhaps you need some assistance," he interrupted, smiling patronisingly. "I see by your obvious disability that you must have someone here looking after you. I don't think I can help you, I'm afraid. Now, if you'll excuse me?"

Sam was too shocked to say anything. She sat with her mouth agape as he tilted his helmet towards her before settling it back on his head and with one hand, expertly guided his horse plunging around the wheelchair.

* * *

That show brought them a first and second place much to the girls' delight. And at the following show, held a fortnight later, Emma and Malaika notched up three more achievements: two wins and a third. Emma still couldn't quite believe what was happening to her and proceeded to walk around in a daze. It just seemed so easy on Malaika. Well, not _easy_, she reasoned with herself. None of the classes she had won were easy but having a horse as keen as Malaika made things a lot more attainable. The fantasy of winning at Huntingdon was becoming an ambition being realised.

The second triumph came one morning whilst Sam was alone in the lounge enjoying the view which the glass doors to the patio afforded.

"Keith! Alison! Keith, come quick!" Sam screamed in excitement. "Come look!" Thundering footsteps down the hall heralded their approach.

"What?" Keith cried. "Are you all right?"

"I can move it! Look! Look! I can move my foot!" Sam shouted hysterically, pointing frantically at her bare feet.

Keith and Alison watched in anticipation as Sam took on a concentrated attitude. Suddenly the toes on her right foot lifted a few millimetres then dropped.

"I can do it again, look! It's not just a nerve spasm," Sam said cheerily. Again her toes rose and fell.

"Oh, Sam." Alison swept down to hug Sam in her chair. "I'm so happy for you." Keith did the same before muttering

"They said it might come back. This is only the beginning, Sam. Before you know it you'll be doing the eighty metre dash."

"I'll be able to ride again," Sam enthused. Like Emma's, her fantasy now also seemed within her grasp.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next qualifying show that Sam and Emma travelled to was their greatest challenge yet. But Malaika was on top form and their hopes were riding high, dangerously so. Emma only just scraped into the jump-off in their first class. Surprisingly, there were twelve other clears over the very tough course and Emma had her work cut out for her in the jump-off. However, Sam sat in awe as she watched her snatch first place by nearly three seconds. As the two girls made their way back to the horse box full of buoyancy they didn't notice the riders from another ring exiting after their prize giving. Leading the field was the boy Sam least wanted to see, with a large red rosette fluttering from his horse's cheek piece. Sam's lip curled in disgust. She would rather anyone win than him. Seeing Sam's obvious revulsion he grinned at them as he passed by.

"Afternoon ladies," he said, then nodding at Emma, added "I see we both won today. Fancy a celebration drink?"

"Go bury yourself," Sam growled.

"No, I only do that to the opposition," he laughed as he rode on.

"Don't let him get to you, Sam," Emma said once he was out of hearing.

"I can't help it. I just get upset when I see anything involved with Leon Brooke."

"Come on, let's get back and forget about him. He's not worth getting upset about."

* * *

Later that afternoon, the final jumping classes were coming to an end. The show ground was becoming more and more deserted as competitors left to go home. The rain-impregnated clouds which had been threatening all day finally broke and the first spits of rain fell on Sam's face just as Emma rode into the ring.

Emma, on the other hand, didn't notice the rain as she concentrated hard on the course she had to tackle. Malaika was jumping like a dream and couldn't wait to get back into the action. Their round was fluent and a pleasure to watch and the few viewers straggled around the ring clapped as they jogged out. Emma noticed the rain when it became more persistent just as she dismounted. She had been the one of the last competitors to ride and she hoped the ground wouldn't become too slippery in the jump-off. She was one of eight riders who qualified for the jump-off and she became more and more impatient as she waited for her turn. The rain was making the grass as slippery as ice and the horses were sliding dangerously all over the place. With each passing second as the rain came down Emma grew more and more apprehensive. Maybe she should withdraw? Although a win here would count a lot towards her ultimate goal, was it really worth risking Malaika's safety? Before she could come to a decision she was called into the ring. The pair completed the first jump well but Malaika slipped on landing. Emma shook her head dubiously as they turned to face the second jump but nevertheless they jumped that just as confidently. Rounding the far corner into number three, Emma's attention was focussed on the jump ahead and only just managed to keep Malaika on her feet when the mare lost her footing on the turn. Doubt again began to curl in her mind as she considered retiring but an insistent voice in her head reminded her that she was in need of all the points she could get. With renewed vehemence she and Malaika managed the next two jumps competently and took care not to turn too sharply into the final line of obstacles. Malaika's hooves squelched in the saturated earth as she landed over the third last. Picking up speed she gathered herself for the leap over the planks. Emma could hear the mare's hooves squeaking as they slid over the grass with each unstable stride. They were so close, there was only one jump left. Malaika stood well off the last jump, a parallel of rustic poles. Sam, watching anxiously from the gate let her breath out in relief as the pair landed and swept through the Finish. Glancing around to see what everyone else's reaction was to such a good round her attention was drawn to the neighbouring arena where people were applauding the winner as he was handed his prize.

"Oh, not again," she groaned quietly.

* * *

Since the breakthrough of Sam's paralysis, her workouts at the physiotherapy gym became more intense. In the indoor swimming pool, being supported by two assistants, tears of frustration and exhaustion ran down her cheeks as she battled to put one foot in front of the other. It was hard work with very little reward and she had to take regular breaks to get her breath back. As a result of these sessions, less of her time was spent helping Emma and Malaika and even when she was home she was sometimes too tired to go down to the stables. She did, however, make time for the party held by Tom McGrath, Britain's show jumping number two. The invitation came as a welcome surprise and she was touched that he had remembered her on his guest list despite the fact that they hadn't spoken in about six months. Tom was a likeable man, rather like a favourite uncle, and she had always enjoyed his company.

* * *

Sam sat in semi-darkness, a little detached from a small group of people surrounding Tom, with the dim lighting spreading a warm golden glow over her face. She chuckled whole-heartedly as he regaled a comic hunting experience in Ireland to an enamoured audience. Any doubts she had had earlier about attending the party were long forgotten as, for the first in a long time, she laughed and chatted and was thoroughly enjoying herself.

All of a sudden a shadow fell across her and, startled, Sam looked up at the tall broad-shouldered figure standing in front of her.

"Miss Peterson, what an unexpected pleasure," the person said with a familiar cultured and teasing voice.

"You've done your homework," Sam said coolly. "You know my name."

"It wasn't too difficult to find out. There's only one person in a wheelchair in this room so you'll be glad to know you draw a lot of attention to yourself."

Sam visibly flinched at the taunt. She knew that no matter how long she sat in that chair she would never be able to accept it. The young man smirked at her obvious discomfort.

"We haven't really had the chance to introduce ourselves before now, have we? Just never seemed quite like the right time." Sam suspected he was laughing at her. "My name is Matt Benning."

"It is not a pleasure, I can assure you," Sam snapped and looked away, intent on ignoring him. But as normal, her indignation got the better of her and she turned back to him exclaiming

"How can you ride for such a man? You must surely like horses, so how can you bring yourself to treat them like that?"

"Treat them like what?"

"Like - like machines, like they don't have feelings. It's horrid!"

"Horses won't jump if they don't want to."

"They will if you've terrified them enough and broken their spirit."

Swiftly Matt Benning swooped down to eye-level with Sam and looked at her with hawk-like eyes.

"I do _not_ terrify my horses. I've been riding long enough to know you'll only fail by scaring your horse."

Sam chuckled in disbelief.

"So you're telling me that that horse you rode at Lymington was quite happy with the way you and that _despicable_ Leon Brooke were bashing it around?"

"I'm not going to start making excuses to some loud mouth invalid such as yourself, but I won that class, okay? If Leon Brooke's methods of training differ from your own, then so be it. Keep your nose out of other people's business," Matt Benning hissed in a deathly quiet manner. Sam was stung. She never took kindly to anybody who spoke of her paralysis but calling her an invalid had struck deep. She had never thought of herself as an _invalid_ before. Saying that word shed a new light on her plight. And a loud mouth? Is that what she had become - a loud mouth meddling in other people's affairs? For a moment her eyes swam with tears then with a sudden force she pushed her chair past him, nearly sending him sprawling. As quickly as she could she manoeuvred her way through the crowded room to the open French doors leading onto a balcony.

* * *

Alone and away from the noise of the party, she sat in the cool breeze, looking though the railings at the lit-up swimming pool down below. The lanterns which were scattered strategically amongst the shrubbery turned to chandeliers as the tears stole down her cheeks. She tried to blink them away but to no avail. What had been such a promising evening was now turning into a nightmare. Behind her, Sam heard a soft footstep but didn't bother turning around. She knew who it was. She felt the weight of someone leaning their hands on the handles of her wheelchair.

"I'm sorry I upset you," he said solemnly.

Sam ignored him, still looking at the opal swimming pool below.

"That horse I rode at Lymington is very excitable and needed a lot of work before we could enter the ring," Matt explained.

"Usually an excitable horse would need a lot of flatwork," Sam replied. "Not being jumped over a tall jump time and time again and having its legs battered."

"You've obviously crossed paths with Leon before."

"Indirectly, yes. I rode a horse for someone that was later sold to Brooke. When I rode it again a couple of years later when it had come out of his yard, it was a wreck. Too nervous and totally stripped of confidence."

"What happened to it?"

"It was sold at a sale, and I heard it later changed hands again. So who knows what sort of state it's in now."

"And you blame Leon for that?"

"Of course," Sam retorted. "The horse was fine before it went to him."

Matt stepped from behind Sam up to the balcony railing , gazing into the darkness of the night.

"But it's not just because of that one horse," Sam continued. "It wasn't the first to come out of his yard totally spent. And no doubt it won't be the last. All Leon Brooke is interested in is power and winning and fuelling his disgusting ways are people like you who ride for him." Sam couldn't stay a moment longer. She didn't want to hear what excuses this boy, Matt Benning, who had hurt her so deeply, had to say. With one skilled movement she spun her wheelchair around and quickly became enveloped by the smoky darkness and noisy guests beyond the French doors. Matt leaned his arms on the damp railing and continued to gaze at the black hunchback hills in the distance. His usually teasing mouth was set in a grim line and a muscle was jumping in the shapely curve of his jaw. He made no move to follow Sam. What would be the point? Nothing he said could change her mind. And, he asked himself, did he really want to persuade her otherwise? Did he not have the same thoughts a lot of the time as well?

* * *

**Eleven chapters down, plenty more to come! But I need your feedback peeps, I'm dying to know here! I know you're reading it, but I need to know your thoughts. Even a couple of words to say "Yeah, good, she's nice" or "Not so great, stick to writing meeting minutes in future". Hit me with it!**


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Gradually, the light at the end of Sam's tunnel of immobility grew brighter. That very first movement seemed to have triggered a chain reaction and all her hard work was finally beginning to pay off. Within a couple of weeks she could move three toes on her left foot as well and she could feel the doctor's experimental pinpricks all the way up to her knees. It was the cause of much excitement and celebration and everyone waited eagerly for more progress. But the passage was slow and Sam was certainly aware there was no gain without pain and it infuriated her.

One silent night she sat alone in the dark in her bedroom. A ghostly beam of moonlight streaming through the window centred on her, revealing the intense concentration on her face. Sam was looking fiercely at her left foot.

_Move_, she willed. The house was so deathly quiet, her gulps of breath seemed to reverberate around the room. She bit her bottom lip hard and gripped the sides of her wheelchair with her hands.

_Move!_ she screamed silently. _Move!_

Sweat broke out in silver beads on her forehead and upper lip as she forced all her energy into her foot. She bit harder on her lip, drawing blood, but the sweet metallic taste only served to make her try harder. Then like a flame flickering into life, Sam's left foot shuddered slightly. Sam caught her breath, and was still for a moment as she looked down incredulously. Her whole foot had moved. Quickly, she refocused herself and again her foot moved, this time more surely.

Sam relaxed and leaned her head back and laughed quietly to herself. She was going to beat this demon which held her legs in an iron grip, even if it was the last thing she did.

* * *

When Sam first got the telephone call asking her to attend the charity pitch-and-putt competition she was flattered and amazed that people still thought of her as a prominent figure in Britain's equestrian world. Sure, she had had some pretty good media coverage during her short career and maybe her accident, which had been splashed over _The Equine_ and _Horse & Hound's _front pages had kept her from being forgotten about but she hadn't foreseen this honour of inclusion. Alongside her Tom McGrath, Angie Larcombe, who was last year's Young Show Jumper of the Year, Richie Ball, clown and commentator of most televised three-day-events and Patrick Flaherty, Ireland's top dressage rider and world ranking Number Four had also been invited.

Tom and Patrick were impressive to watch and the money raised with each potted golf ball increased as the two steadily sunk one after another. Sam found it great fun trying to hit the ball whilst sitting down. She had been given smaller golf clubs to use, probably used normally by a child, and laughed and groaned with the crowd as her shots travelled wide of their mark.

"It is the flag closest to us you're aiming for, isn't it Sam? Not the one way over there at the next hole," Tom called out. The crowd laughed and Sam shook her club at him in mock anger.

As they made their way back to the clubhouse after the enjoyable although exhausting afternoon on the course, Sam grinned and said to Tom

"I'm lucky I've got something to blame my performance on." She patted the armrests of her chair. "I was a terrible player even when I could stand."

Tom chuckled and put his hand on Sam's shoulder in a friendly gesture.

"Well, that may be your excuse but I'd like to know what Richie's is."

* * *

Sundown found them all sitting in the cool and airy clubhouse, the last golden rays of the sun piercing the windows, and sipping lemonades and shandies. Sam, Tom, Patrick Flaherty, Angie Larcombe and Richie Ball were all idly discussing the latest horsy gossip.

"That Emma Gordon you've got under your wing," Richie said to Sam, "she looks like she's going places. Saw her riding in Bath about a month ago. Plenty of talent there."

"Wouldn't mind her under my wing," Sam heard Patrick drawl under his breath and she turned to grin at him.

"Patrick, she's sixteen. Really! But yes, she is very talented. She's won a lot more since then too."

"You'd better watch out then, Tom. Before you know it, you'll be receivin' a thrashing from a wee lass, y'know," Patrick teased.

"Another one I'm going to have to keep on my toes around is Leon Brooke's nephew," Tom added.

"Oh, Lord. Don't tell me there's another Brooke in the horse business. Isn't one enough?" Sam groaned.

"You must have met him before, surely?" Tom said.

"I don't know. I hope not. Who is he?"

"Matt Benning," Angie sighed wistfully. "He's the best looking guy in the equestrian world."

"What?" Patrick and Tom retorted in unison.

"Anyway," Tom continued, grinning at Angie. "Matt Benning rides for his uncle and appears to be doing very well at it."

Sam sat there dumbfounded. Never would she have thought that handsome Matt Benning could share the same blood as revoltingly fat Leon Brooke.

* * *

The next time Sam saw the boy in question and his uncle it was late October at a show in Bournemouth on the south coast. He was riding a plunging black Thoroughbred, which Sam had seen him win on before. He was warming up his horse at the far corner of the wide expansive field. Sam sat by the ringside and watched him, unnoticed. Against the grey, forbidding skyline the young man turned his mount in circles and serpentines and figures of eight, stretching its muscles and curving its body.

Though she couldn't judge very well from this distance, Sam decided that for all Matt Benning's faults, according to how well that horse was performing, he must be a pretty good rider. A stout figure marching towards the pair attracted her attention. Unwittingly, she raised her lip in a sneer of distaste as she recognised Leon Brooke. After flapping his arms around like a duck out of water and hurling abuse at his nephew which Sam could only wonder what was about, he took hold of the horse's bridle and pulled the horse in the direction of some practice jumps as if he was hauling a fifty pound sack of potatoes. Thereafter, he ordered Matt to jump a couple of fences at increasingly sharp angles. Once, when the horse refused, Leon Brooke was ready for him with his dreaded dressage whip. He brought it down across the Thoroughbred's quarters, making Sam wince. With anger coursing through her veins she watched the horse instinctively jump away from the sting of the whip, half jumping, half plunging through the obstacle. The sound of crashing poles reached Sam where she sat and all of a sudden she turned away, not able to watch the horse scrambling out of the debris. She refused to look at them again.

* * *

To Sam's fury Matt, riding the black Speed Limit, won the main jumping class of the afternoon, beating Emma and Malaika into second place. In all truthfulness, Sam could not fault his riding in the ring, in fact she found herself admiring the way he skilfully dealt with what was obviously a tricky horse, but the fact that he had treated the him so horribly beforehand disgusted her. She wasn't normally a bad loser but she glared at Matt as he led the prize winners around and out of the arena after the awards presentation.

They finally bumped into each other in the refreshments tent. Seeing her enter the tent whilst he was being served at the counter, he ordered another drink. He met Sam halfway across the marquee and offered it to her. Though she hated to accept it, she figured she'd look rather silly if she didn't, considering she would then have to go wait in the queue to get her own.

"You shouldn't have," she said sarcastically.

On the other hand, Matt beamed down at her, his mahogany brown eyes twinkling beneath an untidy blond fringe.

"Would you like to take a turn outside?" he asked graciously. Without speaking Sam raised her drink with one hand and gestured to her chair with the other, motioning that it would be impossible for her to hold a drink and wheel at the same time.

"No problem," Matt said. He took hold of the handlebars and steered Sam out of the tent.

"Mind you don't spill your drink over me," Sam said rudely. For a moment he was tempted to do so but then smiled to himself and carried on pushing.

"Don't give me reason to then. I see Emma Gordon has gained a lot more confidence since we last crossed swords. She put up quite a fight today," Matt remarked.

"Not good enough to beat you though, eh?" Sam replied bitterly. "Oh well, I guess we'll just have to comfort ourselves with the fact that outside the show ring we treat our horse in a _humane _way."

"Now, now, Miss Peterson, don't go getting nasty. You saw how I was doing flatwork on Speed Limit earlier," he teased.

"Did I?" Sam said uncomfortably.

"Yes, I saw you watching me from the ringside."

Sam blushed crimson, realising she hadn't gone unnoticed after all.

"I also saw you trying to jump your horse over those practice fences at just about impossible angles," she retaliated.

This time Matt said nothing to defend himself. Sam squirmed in her chair to look behind at his reaction. He stopped pushing and walked around to face her. He sat down on a hay bale a couple of paces away and looked at the girl in the wheelchair in wonder.

_For someone so small, she certainly has a lot to shout about_, he thought. Looking at him watching her so harmlessly, the anger left Sam's body and she said more passively

"Why didn't you tell me Leon Brooke was your uncle?"

"You didn't ask," he said simply.

"It would be a pretty dumb thing to ask. You're so unalike it would be impossible to guess. Leon's a fat horrible man whereas - " she stopped herself just in time.

"Whereas?"

"Whereas you - you're not," she finished lamely. There was a silence between them and Sam studied his eyes. Could she detect a hint of shame or regret in them? "Is that why you ride for him?"

"It suits us both. He has someone to ride and market his horses. I have some good rides and a chance to make a name for myself."

"But you're a good rider!" Sam said suddenly feeling more compassionate. "You could get rides from anywhere. Why him?"

"He's still my uncle and you, young lady," Matt said getting to his feet, "ask too many questions."

He fleetingly brushed a finger across her cheek before walking past and away towards the hubbub of the show. Sam could still feel his touch on her skin and her stomach began to settle after turning an Olympic-winning somersault and she frowned to herself. She despised this boy. Why all of a sudden did she react like that? Just because he looked like showing a bit of remorse didn't change anything. It wasn't stopping him from playing Leon Brooke's game. Sam cursed herself and then as an afterthought, Matt Benning as well. He had no right to ignite these sort of emotions in her! What emotions? Well, she wasn't quite sure yet, but he still had no right!


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sam tried to push the worry of the competition posed by Matt to the back of her mind and concentrate on improving Emma and Malaika. One morning, as Sam and Emma were preparing to go down to the schooling paddock, there was a shout from behind and they turned to see Sam's next door neighbour Jo Hamilton-Clarke recklessly trotting her pony, Rosie towards them.

"Hiya!" she yelled.

"Hello, mate, how're you?" Sam grinned.

"Fine, thanks. But so bored! I was wondering if you wanted some company today? There's no one to ride with back home now that Barry and Phil have gone on that boys' camping thingy."

"Yes, of course we'd like you to join us. In fact, you could help us if you don't mind," Sam said. "Fancy a bit of a jumping competition?"

"Sure, as long as the jumps are below four foot," Jo replied happily. "We're not _that _brave."

While Jo and Emma warmed up their mounts, chatting amiably to one another, Jem helped Sam with building a course.

"Okay you two, come over here and listen," Sam eventually called out to the girls. "All right? These jumps here may not seem very big to you…"

Jo looked at her doubtfully. "…but they are strategically positioned to make you think every step of the way. I want you both to do a round, each in your own time and then we'll take a pit stop, okay?"

Once they had been briefed on the route Emma set out first. She was tackling the course neatly until she came to a vertical shortly after a tight corner. Unable to check Malaika's stride in time the mare knocked the top pole off with her knees.

"Wow, that was tricky," Emma said with genuine surprise when she had trotted back. "I thought it wouldn't be that bad since none of them are particularly big but it was!"

Jo and Rosie set off confidently and somehow managed to get round the course with only eight faults. Jo's riding was erratic and she threw herself over each jump leaving too much daylight to be seen between her and saddle. She also couldn't see Rosie's stride until they were almost upon the jump and those that they jumped smoothly hadn't anything to do with skill. But Sam grinned at her when she came trotting back to the fence.

"Well done. Now, before I ask you to up the pace, let me just say a few things about jumping at speed. Don't, for one second, think that all it's about is galloping as fast as you can around the course. You have to think about cutting corners and looking for where you can make up time. You must be quick as well, of course but not out of control. If you're just tearing around you're more likely to take a wider course and you'll be guaranteed to knock down jumps. You have to think quickly too. If you make a mistake or your horse stumbles or something, you'll have lost it if you haven't got all your wits about you. Think ahead. If your class has a jump-off, then figure out your jump-off course when you're walking the course right at the start. Look for nooks and crannies which you can snip off and save half a second here and half a second there. It could mean all the difference between winning and losing a class. So now! Let's do the same course again. This time upping the tempo a bit. Let's make that oil drum over there the starting line and the second pole along the fence the finish line. Okay? Off you go, Emma!"

As Emma raced past the starting barrel Sam glanced at the second hand on her watch. She knew Malaika was a naturally zippy horse who could accelerate faster than a lot of heavier horses and her shorter stride also allowed her to cut round corners sharper. The pair flew over the course and Emma steadied Malaika as they turned the corner to the vertical they had knocked down before. The corner was tight though and Sam felt that they had still travelled wider than they should have. Nevertheless, they finished the course without knocking down any jumps. Again, Sam took note of the time.

A fair round, she thought to herself.

"How do you think you went?" she asked once Emma had pulled up.

"Not bad, I don't think," she replied vaguely.

"Any things which you think you might have improved on?" Sam prompted.

"Nn-no," Emma said slowly. "I thought we did pretty well."

"Yes, you did do that well. But you went farming coming into that upright and after jumping those barrels in the middle you could have turned earlier in the air. Instead, Malaika had already gone two strides before you did anything. But apart from that you did well. Ready, Jo?"

Despite all Sam had said about remaining in control, Jo and Rosie still tore around like a bat out of hell. They knocked down only the one jump this time but when Rosie pecked on landing Jo wasn't ready and they lost what would have been valuable seconds trying to regain the rhythm and momentum. It didn't bother Sam that Jo hadn't heeded a word of what she had said because she wasn't here to teach Jo. In fact, it was a good way of teaching Emma what _not _to do.

* * *

"Sam, do you fancy going into town and doing a bit of Christmas shopping?" Alison said popping her head around her sister-in-law's bedroom door early the next week. Sam, who was reading a book in bed, looked up in surprise.

"Christmas shopping? My God, where has this year gone?"

"Well, _early_ Christmas shopping is what I probably should have said. Best to beat the crowds though."

"Good idea. Me trying to get through throngs of oblivious Christmas shoppers could spark a severe case of shopping aisle rage."

The threat which the heavy rolling grey clouds above had been posing all morning was finally carried out as Sam, Alison and Richard made their way down the High Street. A persistent drizzle was suddenly upon them and as if by magic, umbrellas shot up all around them sheltering other passers by. Alison gave a wail of despair and hurried them into the nearest shop. It was a bookstore luckily, so Sam didn't mind whiling away her time looking at books until the rain stopped. Alison, on the other hand was faced with another dilemma. Taking Richard into a bookstore was like letting a bull loose in a china shop. He was likely to drop books on the floor spine-up, bend back covers and tear out pages with colourful pictures on them if he was left to his own devices.

"I'm going to take him to the video game section where he won't cause as much havoc," Alison said to Sam.

"Okay, I think I'll just wander about here."

She watched mother and son disappear around a corner and chuckled to herself. Richard was such a tearaway but equally as adorable. As she passed the magazine stand her attention was caught by a photograph on the cover of one, like metal to a magnet. Recognition passed through Sam's body like a shockwave and her chest tightened painfully as she came to an abrupt halt. Sights and sounds around her faded to nothingness, blurred and muffled as she gazed at the photograph in a narrow channel of recollection. Slowly, she wheeled herself closer to the stand, never taking her eyes off the picture, feeling it almost reeling her in. Long moments passed without Sam being able to do anything but gaze at the magazine. The shrill jangle of the store's door shocked her back into the present and the outside world came flooding back to life. She quickly composed her emotions and snatched the magazine down off the shelf, nearly falling out of her chair in her haste.

Whatever was inside that referred to the picture on the front, she wanted to know, but not here. She wasn't sure how she would react. She decided it was best to buy the magazine and read it at home in the safety of her own room.

* * *

Sam sat in her bedroom with the door securely locked so Richard wouldn't disturb her. Gingerly she took out the magazine and laid it on her lap, again staring at the photograph, grazing her fingers lightly over its glossy finish. It was of a horse. A horse Sam had known so well. A horse named Hellfire. There he was, posing for the camera as if he was God's gift to the world. It was a close-up shot of his head with a girl in a hard hat beside him. His pricked ears almost touched at the tips. His vibrant eyes shone with life and his nostrils were blown out like he had always done when he was excited. His face was so familiar to Sam that she could almost feel his soft velvet muzzle and hear his deep husky breaths. The only thing unfamiliar to her was the bridle which he wore and the skinny freckle-faced girl posing beside him. Sam saw they had him in a D-ring snaffle instead of the egg-butt snaffle which Sam had always used, and a running martingale. The girl must be either Ruth Redman, who had originally bought Hellfire and whom Sam had never met, or else if he had been sold on, his new owner.

_That was my horse in another life_, Sam thought sadly.

She turned to the first page and referred to the Contents then opened the feature on her ex-partner. There he was again, this time a full body shot with Ruth Redman, his owner confirmed by the caption, on his back, her long legs hugging his sides and her body slim and straight.

_God, he was a handsome horse_, Sam thought somewhat bitterly. But then she caught herself. Why was she referring to him in the past tense when he was still alive and able-bodied? Well, she admitted to herself, that was simple. Her riding career was over so automatically she would think that all those who had shared it with her would also have finished.

Sam slowly read through the article. Her name jumped out at her early in the paragraph.

_"…Hellfire, previously Sam Peterson's eventing prospect until a paralysing accident halted her career in its tracks…"_

Sam grimaced at the play on words. It then went on to describe Hellfire's exceptional performance at Greystone, becoming the youngest horse ever to win the highly-acclaimed Open.

Sam thought back to last year's Greystone when she had come second on Jetsetter. The course was quick and more suited to Hellfire with his powerful acceleration than Jets. It was no wonder he had won. Tears filled her eyes as pride and happiness for Hellfire and self pity overwhelmed her.

_Oh, how she wanted to have been the one up on his back instead of Ruth Redman. She wanted to be the one riding to glory and celebrating their success._

The magazine slipped off her knees and landed on the floor as her body went limp with dejection. It fell open on another page and the picture heading an article dragged her attention back from the well of despair. It was of a big black horse being jumped over a huge triple by someone now so familiar to her. An inset photo showed the rider's face more clearly with his smooth olive skin and mahogany brown eyes. Matt Benning was laughing into the camera, showing off Hollywood-worthy teeth and two dimples etched into his cheeks. Below, in bold black text was the caption _"The Sky's The Limit"_.

Wiping her eyes dry, Sam picked up the fallen magazine and began to read.

_"Matt Benning may not be the most familiar name on the show jumping circuit but all that has changed since sweeping the board at this year's Muirfield Show. Riding Leon Brooke's Speed Limit, nineteen-year-old Benning carried off the Muirfield Speed Stakes, the Jefferson Grand Prix and the High Jump in a weekend of fierce international competition. His other ride, Razor Sharp, also owned by Leon Brooke, did not live up to his namesake and appeared nervy and distracted throughout the three days' jumping…"_

_I'll bet that was no thanks to the beating he more than likely received beforehand,_ Sam thought savagely.

_"…Nephew of Brooke, Benning must be seriously considered for next year's Huntingdon Horse Show where he will, no doubt, make life very difficult for defending champion Ralph de Jaeger and Britain's top riders such as Tom McGrath and Mark Carter. With his nephew riding so well for him, Brooke is bound to pick up some hefty prizes and prices for the horses he will undoubtedly be selling at the end of the season…"_

Sam closed the magazine and smiled grimly to herself. Matt Benning was becoming harder and harder to ignore.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Amongst other things, Christmas brought hope to Sam as feeling was gradually creeping into her lower body. She may not have been able to move her limbs very much yet but she could feel the pinpricks they used to gauge her progress right up to the tops of her thighs. Spirits were high on Fernleigh Farm for the full course of the festive week as the whole family gathered together, including Sam and Keith's and Alison's parents for Christmas Day. Richard was delirious with excitement over all the presents his grandparents had spoilt him with. The face paints and water gun given by Alison's parents didn't go down well as the little boy redecorated walls and blasted water into people's faces and into their glasses of champagne. Sam had given him a football, of which had captured his attention for a couple of hours until exhausted, he passed out on the lounge sofa.

Later that day, after the sun had taken early retirement, Sam wrapped herself up warm in a jacket and scarf and with a lap full of apple slices and carrots, went down to the stables. Jetsetter and Malaika were standing peacefully in their boxes snug in their winter rugs.

"Merry Christmas guys," she smiled at the expectant heads which faced her over the half doors. She fed the treats to them, enjoying the feel of their lips gentle on the palm of her hand. "Are we going to win at Huntingdon, sweetheart?" Sam asked Malaika, gazing up into the Anglo-Arab's big kind eyes. The mare snorted in response, blowing warm air onto the girl's face. "What would I be feeling if it was me riding you at Huntingdon? Right now, I guess I just want all of us to do well. I want you to shine in the glory you deserve and I want Emma to be happy. So I suppose I feel pretty hopeful…I wonder if I would still feel the same hope if it was me riding you? I don't know, Mally. Don't listen to me rambling on," Sam murmured, lost in her own thoughts. Moving along to Jetsetter's stable she scratched the big bay behind his ears and straightened his forelock over the long moonlit blaze spilt down his face like a light-sabre.

"Hello, captain," Sam greeted him. "I know you want us to do well. And I'll bet you want to be there too. It's a pain not being able to do things you really love, isn't it, Jets? But I'm getting better now and I hope you will too. You've been so patient and you never seem to get depressed or crabby. How do you do that? You're a good boy, Jetsetter, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

"Well, merry Christmas, guys. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Early into the new year, there was a considerably significant show held, more because it was the last of the qualifying rounds in the south of England for Huntingdon which brought Emma and Matt Benning together again in battle. The main event was the Jubilee Grand Prix hosted in a beautiful manicured arena on a large old Edwardian estate. The white double-barred fence encompassing the field stood like a glossy skirting board lining a fluffy green carpet and the professional-looking jumps were liberally spread out, glistening in the morning sunshine. One side of the arena was flanked by a row of fir trees and there was even space inside the ring for a couple of oak and maple trees without making it look cramped. When the course was open for inspection, Sam and Emma proceeded around, scrutinizing every jump. Sam noticed Emma turning paler as they progressed and had to admit to herself that from where she sat, the fences did look menacingly big. The fact that everybody else walking the course was looking so confident and nonchalant didn't inspire either of them. Today was of particular importance in their quest to qualify for Huntingdon.

Sam was aware of Matt Benning studying the course a few obstacles ahead but only took real notice when she saw him pacing the distance between the combination for the third time.

"I think we should take a good look at the double. It seems our friend Mr Benning might just have discovered something amiss," Sam said to Emma quietly.

They strolled along until Matt was on his way out of the arena before heading over to pace out the distance between the last two jumps. Sure enough, there was an odd stride in the middle, which would probably have caught them out if they hadn't known to look out for something.

* * *

Half an hour later, everyone was cursing the course builder and his combination as each left the ring with penalties next to their names on the scoreboard. There hadn't been one clear round by the time it was Emma's turn, which made everything even more daunting.

"Everyone's been trying to ride the combination in the normal way. Shorten her in between with a half halt or something. Just watch those last two and you'll be fine," Sam said in hushed tones as Emma prepared to depart. Her heart was in her mouth as she watched the pair approach the first jump which was a tall blue and white vertical. Malaika arched over it beautifully and headed onto number two, a brown and yellow parallel almost floating in flowerpots. The mare rose well off her hocks and soared over cleanly. As they travelled around the course Sam feared it was all too good to be true and that soon they would come unstuck. She urged Emma not to get too complacent. But Emma and Malaika's performance could not be faulted. The water, the wall, the planks and the huge triple seemed ridiculed beneath Malaika's oiled hooves. Sam didn't dare hope as her intent eyes followed them into the line of the last two jumps. Nearly every horse so far had been caught short-strided here but Malaika met the first perfectly. Emma shifted her weight in the saddle, turning Malaika a little to the left then straightening out after two chopped strides. With a burst of energy the girl urged her horse on take off, using her riding crop once on the chestnut's neck. Malaika responded with a flawless leap, clearing it sweetly.

Sam grinned.

"Beat that, Benning," she said under her breath.

For the rest of the class there was only one other faultless round. Matt Benning, last to go made the course seem like child's play as he and the big black stallion, Speed Limit, whisked over the jumps with apparent ease. Laughing as he jogged out of the ring he flashed a charming pearly white grin at Sam.

"I see you two picked up on the last as well," he said.

"I doubt whether you'll be laughing so much when Emma pumps you into the ground in the jump-off," Sam challenged.

"Oh, I won't mind," he chuckled. "I've already secured my place for Huntingdon. Have you?"

"No, we haven't but we didn't start until halfway through the season."

"Well, this is your last chance. She'd better get used to this sort of competition if she wants to be in the big time."

"Go away, Matt. You have a nasty habit of putting me in a foul mood," Sam complained. The grin he wore on his face was still there as he rode past her.

"Why does he have to be so darn cheerful all the time?" Sam muttered.

* * *

For the jump-off, six of the jumps were raised. They were the wall, the triple, the planks, a vertical and the combination. Sam didn't know whether Emma would go for a slow careful clear or risk a fast round. She hadn't wanted to influence her at the last minute, knowing that Emma would have to make that decision herself. Her question was answered when Emma breezed Malaika through the Start, taking her time in judging the first jump. Her tactics were concise and deliberate which brought out the best in the mare and they sailed over each jump. To Sam they looked so professional and with riding like that they deserved to go to Huntingdon. As the pair landed after the final jump and pelted through the finish, Sam let out her breath. They were clear. Now only Matt Benning stood between them and Huntingdon. The boy in question then rode into the ring, his usually teasing face now concentrated and sober. Emma passed him going through the gate and dismounted when she had reached Sam, not far away.

"Wasn't she fabulous?" Emma breathed, patting Malaika's neck and ducking beneath the saddle flap to loosen her girth.

"Both of you were," Sam commended her. "That was a perfect piece of riding. But right now we've got to worry about Matt Benning. If he beats us then we've lost our place for Huntingdon unless we travel up north for the final qualifiers up there. We'd bump into Tom McGrath and Mark Carter if we did that and we don't want that… yet."

As the bell rang Matt pushed Speed Limit into a gallop and raced towards the first fence. The stallion took off from far away and gave the jump plenty of air. They turned to the wall and once he had found his stride Matt pushed him on again and they leapt full tilt over the red bricks.

"Oh no," Emma said quietly as she watched the black stallion clearing the triple. "He's going to do it."

Sam, who was thinking the same thing gritted her teeth and replied

"It ain't over til the fat lady sings."

Matt turned Speed Limit round the corner into the combination, the jumping studs in the black's soup plate hooves tearing the grass. But when Matt went to check him, Speed Limit, taking heed of his name, was intent on galloping over these jumps as well. Surprise froze on his face and he almost stood back in his stirrups trying to slow down. But before his commands could have any effect, Speed Limit took off over the first of the two jumps. Landing, he was propelled forward then frantically tried to stop himself when he saw there was no room for another stride. He clouted the top poles hard with fore and hindlegs, gaining four faults to his name.

Emma whooped with glee before she could stop herself, causing people nearby to frown disapprovingly at her unsporting behaviour. Sam grinned triumphantly at Matt Benning as he rode his mount out of the ring. After looking vehemently at her for a moment, a wry smile broke out on his face.

"I guess you've booked your ticket to Huntingdon then," he said.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

That was the last rung on the ladder to Huntingdon. They could sit back and rest for the next eight weeks. As January rolled on and the nights became shorter and the days longer, Sam's healing progress gathered momentum. While everybody except Keith waited eagerly at home, Sam and her brother visited the hospital for a major step forward: Sam's first steps. She was lifted out of her chair by a couple of nurses who supported her as she leant her hands on the parallel bars. These bars were only waist high and just the balls of her feet touched the ground when her arms were rigid. Keith and Sam's doctor, Dr Cooper stood close, watching keenly. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she willed just the one leg to move. Slowly painfully it crept forward and Sam let her breath out abruptly at the effort. She let the nurses support more of her weight as she tried to get her energy up again.

"Well done Sam. Keep it going," Keith murmured to his sister. Sam gulped and tried again, this time with the other leg. That too moved to meet its mate and for the first time she allowed herself a smile of triumph. If she could keep doing this every day she would be on her feet sooner than she thought. It was a struggle and took nearly twenty minutes for Sam to make it to the end of the bars. Her stops to catch her breath at every step took up most of the time but by the end of it all, although totally exhausted, Sam was celebrating with Keith.

"I'm going to buy you some running shoes after we leave here!" Keith exclaimed, hugging Sam in joy.

"Thanks Keith," Sam laughed. "Thanks for everything. No, I mean it," she insisted when he fobbed her off with a wave of his hand. "This hasn't been any easier for you and I'm really grateful."

"I know you are, Sam. You don't need to say it. I know."

* * *

One morning, Sam and Emma were sitting in Fernleigh House waiting for the band of rain battering down to pass over. It looked grey and miserable outside, the black clouds swollen and heavy with rain. In amiable silence Sam read an edition of _The Equine_, whilst Emma looked dreamily out of the glass doors.

"Tell me about Malaika," she said suddenly.

Sam looked up in surprise.

"What?"

"Tell me about Malaika. You've never really spoken about the both of you, you know."

"What's there to tell? You know most of our history," Sam shrugged.

Emma paused warily, unsure whether her questioning might upset Sam but she seemed all right so far.

"How did you first meet?" she went on.

"Well," Sam began with a sigh as she put down her magazine and cast her mind back. "I was at a pony club camp and one of the instructors, Colonel Spencer liked the look of my riding. He was a really fierce man who could be very scary if he thought you weren't trying. When he found out I hadn't got my own pony he approached my parents. When they agreed I could have one, the Colonel said he would let them know if he ever found a decent one. Six months later we got a call from him. He said he'd found a horse and not a pony which he thought would be good for me. Some man who had bred her himself was considering selling her."

"How did she get the name _Malaika_? What does it mean?" Emma asked curiously.

"Her breeder was South African. In one of the native languages there Malaika means _My Angel_."

"Oh, how lovely," Emma breathed. "It's her all over. All she really needs is a halo and then she'd be complete."

"So when I saw her, I fell head over heels in love and wouldn't take No for an answer," Sam carried on. "She was only four and very green but Colonel Spencer was very kind and he helped us out a lot. I've never quite known why he was so good to us. He said that the two of us were _special_. He was the one who encouraged my parents to enter us in all those competitions. He was so chuffed when we were picked for the Hampshire team in the National Champs, bless his heart," Sam chuckled at the memory.

"Where is he now?"

"Terrifying other pony clubbers now, I'm sure," Sam laughed.

"He must have been very proud when you won the National Champs," Emma said with wide eyes. Sam paused, a sudden melancholia draping itself around her.

"Yes," she said finally. "I suppose he was."

Emma realised she had gone too far and mumbled her apologies.

"Don't be sorry. It's me, not you. I just don't like to think about all that too much."

"I understand," Emma said, relieved that she hadn't overly upset Sam.

* * *

The weeks leading up to Huntingdon quickly became days and with each approaching hour Emma and Sam had more frequent nerve attacks. Despite this, the six weeks rest had done Sam a world of good and now, for short periods of time, she could move herself around on crutches. It was early days yet but she revelled in the joy of being able to speak to people without having to look up at them from a wheelchair, even if it was for only five or ten minutes at a time.

At long last, the sun set on the last day before they were due to leave for Huntingdon. For convenience's sake Emma was staying over at Fernleigh Farm and both she and Sam lay wide awake in their beds unable to sleep for all the thoughts buzzing round their heads like rush hour traffic. But eventually, as the hands on the clock in the hallway reached their peak and started descending through the morning hours, they both fell into exhausted slumber.

Four hours later however, Sam was awake again. Vaguely making out the time on her bedside clock she saw it was only four thirty. They were due to leave at seven o'clock and hopefully arrive at Huntingdon around midday, so it would be a very long journey. Sam decided there was little point and little chance of going to sleep again so she rose and got herself dressed. As she hobbled out of her room she got a sudden fright.

"Sam? You awake too?" Emma's whisper from the top of the stairs made Sam jump.

"Seems that way," she replied. "Or else I'm sleep walking." She smiled in the darkness. "Haven't done that in a while."

Emma came down the dim and dark stairs and Sam saw she was already dressed in her riding clothes.

"Shall we go down to the stables?" Sam suggested.

* * *

As the horses munched through their breakfast Emma stuck close to Malaika, fussing her and grooming her, while Sam found she couldn't tear herself away from Jetsetter. These four days that they would be away would be the longest she'd have left him alone for since arriving back from hospital. Kissing him softly on the nose she whispered

"We'll bring you back a winner, Jets. You just wait, my darling."

* * *

Leaving or arriving on time had never been one of Sam's strongest assets and it was nearly eight o'clock before they finally pulled out of Fernleigh Farm's drive onto the road. The car, which had originally been bought to cater for Sam's wheelchair now came in handy as Keith behind the wheel, Sam, Emma and Jem all squashed in, along with luggage to keep them going for the next four days while at the show. Sharing the trailer behind with Malaika was feed, hay and rugs and other necessities which made up a horse's wardrobe. Alison would be coming up later that day on the train with Richard. Emma's father, who didn't take kindly to horses had called off on the pretence that he had to work. Sam had been enraged that he wouldn't even come to give his daughter support at one of the biggest events of her life. But then again, Sam had always thought from the couple of occasions that she had met him that he was a bit of an odd character.

Once out on the motorway the realisation that they were really on their way hit Emma so hard it nearly winded her. She couldn't get her head round it. _Huntingdon._ Just the name sent volts of adrenaline up her spine.

"Huntingdon here we come," she whispered to herself.

* * *

As the one o'clock news headlines were read out on the radio the team pulled in through the gates leading up to the spectacular Huntingdon Dome. The huge indoor arena had a rounded roof like the underside of a ship and the high curved walls on the one end were designed into the shape of a sail. Keith helped Sam out of the car and she limped over to the rear of the horsebox behind. Emma was already waiting there for Keith and Jem to help her lower the ramp. Sam noticed her usually pink cheeks were even rosier on this chilly winter day. From either the cold or excitement, thought Sam, and most likely the latter.

"How are you feeling?" she smiled.

"Wonderful - in a frightening sort of way," Emma replied. "My stomach feels like it's been in a washing machine. There's so many trailers. And so _huge_. All those well-known names. Look! There's Tom McGrath's trailer. Who's his sponsor? I've never heard of that company."

"Me neither," Sam answered. "But look, there's Ralph de Jaeger, Switzerland's Number One's trailer over there. We'll be seeing a lot more than just his trailer over the next few days."

"Oh, wow. This place is amazing," Emma breathed. All around there were calls and shouts from grooms tending their charges, walkie-talkies crackling at the waists of the patrolling security guards and excited horses snorting and whinnying.

Meanwhile, Keith and Jem pushed back the bolts on the ramp and let it down gently. Jem then entered the box, talking to Malaika while he approached her head from behind. Untying her, he pushed her chest and the chestnut backed slowly out into the brisk cold air. For a moment Sam's heart sank when she saw Malaika's unsteady strides coming down the ramp but she told herself not to be so pessimistic.

"Jem," she said trying to keep her voice calm. "Just walk her a few paces for me." Emma shot her a look of alarm as she caught the soberness in her tone. Sam's heart plummeted even lower when she saw the Anglo Arab was plainly lame in her near fore.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"Oh, no!" Emma wailed. "What's happened to her?"

"She's probably just knocked herself in the box," Sam reassured her. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Just a bit of bruising on the bone, that's all." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more - herself or Emma.

"Still, better fetch a vet anyway," Keith said. "I can see a horse ambulance over there. I'll go get someone."

Jem led a hobbling Malaika back to them looking absolutely bereft. Emma looked close to tears but Sam found herself surprisingly calm. She just felt desperately sorry for Emma. If she couldn't compete on Malaika over the next four days the past eight months of hard graft would have been a bit of a waste. Could fate really be so cruel that it would snatch away all they had worked so determinedly for? With some difficulty she went up to her horse and leaned down to feel the leg. An excess of heat was projected onto her hand and when she slipped a couple of fingers beneath the travelling bandages, the cannon burned under her touch.

A strain perhaps, Sam said to herself, incurred on the journey. She had been totally sound when they had boxed her up early that morning. They had stopped to stretch their legs halfway through the trip but Sam hadn't gone to the trouble of going to check on Malaika but had let Jem and Emma check on the mare. Might she have been lame then and they hadn't noticed? But, whenever it had happened it surely must be a minor injury. Sam's psyche reminded her of a horse she had ridden previously who had suffered from a cold and had pulled a muscle in his back just from effort of coughing and had ended up on box rest for an extra two months. A bang on the knee from one of the box's partition poles at the front could be painful or if the horsebox had lurched and caught Malaika off balance she could easily have pulled some of the many ligaments in her leg trying to correct herself.

* * *

Later that afternoon, walking unsteadily on her crutches, Sam made her way down the short, tarred road which ran from the collecting ring towards the stables.

"Sam, is that you?"

She stopped and turned around to the voice she hadn't heard in over a month. Jogging towards her, smartly clad in white breeches, brown-topped boots, white shirt and tie and carrying a dark blue blazer, was Matt Benning. Against the bleached white of his shirt and tie, his face appeared more bronzed than it actually was.

Not a bad thing, Sam found herself thinking admiringly.

"My goodness, you're walking!" Matt exclaimed. "I never thought I'd see that. Congrats, Sam. You're taller than I thought you were," he added. "I hadn't realised you'd arrived. How are you?"

"Terrible if I'm honest. How are you?" Sam carried on moving and Matt kept pace with her.

"Can't complain. What's the problem?"

"We arrived about an hour ago only to find Malaika's lame."

"Oh no, Sam," Matt said, sounding genuinely annoyed for her. "How did she manage that?"

"Dunno. Must have banged herself in transit. Hopefully she'll be fit enough to jump."

"Let's hope so for your sake. And for Emma's as well," he added as an afterthought.

"Lucky for you though," Sam smiled wryly. "You won't have to worry about losing every class to Emma and Malaika now."

"Ha! The thought hadn't even crossed my mind."

"How many horses have you brought with you?" Sam asked.

"Three. Only one of them belongs to my dear uncle, you'll be glad to know."

"Oh, are you getting rides from other people now?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Yes, success is finally paying off." He stopped at the gate which led to a block of stables. "And Sam, remember what you said months ago about why I'm riding for Leon and not elsewhere?"

"Something along those lines," Sam said vaguely.

"Well, I - I'll let you know what happens." Matt hurriedly turned and went through the gate heading for his horses. Sam stood, propped on her crutches, feeling mildly confused. She was sure he was going to tell her something else and had changed his mind at the last second. His nastiness in the past, Sam was now sure was only because of his loyalty to his uncle, whom Sam despised. She thought back to the show when Matt had admitted to her to being Leon Brooke's nephew and using their relationship as his reason for riding for such a hateful man. What Matt had said just now had implied he might be having seconds thoughts.

* * *

The vet's instructions were, for the next twenty-four hours to hose down Malaika's leg and that there was nothing more they could do but rest her. Emma's first class started at seven o'clock that evening but it was out of the question that the two should compete. With tears of frustration running down her cheeks, Emma hid in Malaika's stall, hugging the mare's neck. She prayed with all her heart that Malaika would be sound in time for her next class at lunchtime tomorrow. If she wasn't then Emma's dream of riding at Huntingdon would be shattered.

The next morning however, Malaika walked out of her stable with an even stride. The team gave a collective sigh of relief.

"Better put boots on her just in case she knocks it again while jumping," Sam advised.

* * *

Later, Emma and the chestnut mare trotted off to the collecting ring for a short warm up before their class only a couple of hours away. Alert to the slightest stumble that Malaika might make Emma's spirits rose as their workout progressed. There were various jumps scattered around the vast sawdust-carpeted arena and she chose an easy cross poles. Malaika hopped over sweetly and Emma laughed with relief. She turned to face a larger vertical jump and the mare propelled herself over. On the other side of the arena stood a forbidding-looking parallel which Emma gradually circled her mount towards. Launching herself over, Malaika grunted as she landed. Panic-stricken Emma pulled the mare up sharply as she felt Malaika's shoulder drop. Leaping off, Emma prayed she was just imagining things but leading her forward, her heart crashed to the floor as she saw that, once again, Malaika was lame.

"Oh, Mally. Why do you have to be lame?" she wailed at the sorry-looking horse. "Let's get you back to the stables."

* * *

"What on earth were you doing to lame her again?" Sam fumed. Emma's lower lip trembled as she fought the tears stinging her eyes again.

"For goodness' sake, Sam," Keith said sternly. "Be reasonable. It's not Emma's fault."

Sam glared in fury at the two of them. She knew full well it wasn't Emma's fault but she couldn't help feeling angry that everyone was being punished because of Malaika's injury.

"It's not fair!" she exclaimed. She turned away and limped awkwardly away from the team gathered round Malaika's box. Ahead of her she saw Matt walking in her direction and groaned inwardly. She couldn't cope with him right now.

"Sam, how's things? Malaika sound yet?"

"No," she replied glumly.  "She came sound this morning but is limping again after Emma tried to give her a warm up."

"That's too bad. What did the vets say?"

"Told us to keep hosing her leg down.  Nothing else they can do."

"Rubbish, there's always something more they can do, they just need to apply themselves. I wonder…" Matt looked thoughtful.

Sam looked at him suspiciously.

"I wonder what?" she prompted.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but did I not see Kate Hammond walking around this morning?"

"I don't know. Who's Kate Hammond?"

"Top American equine physiotherapist. Works miracles with horses using massage and herbal remedies and stuff."

"Where is she now?" Sam asked, ready to grasp at any straw.

"Dunno. Ask security or someone to find her for you. It's worth a try, right?" Matt said helpfully.

"Thanks, Matt," Sam replied, almost managing a smile. He grinned.

"I bet you never thought you'd ever hear yourself saying that before. Listen, good luck with Kate, I've got to shoot."

"Okay."

"Actually, you should definitely find Kate."

"Well, I'm going to do my best to. Why d'you say that?"

"She might be able to help you out even further."

"Eh?"

"Malaika's not your only horse lame, is she?"

* * *

Quarter of an hour later Sam and the team stood by anxiously waiting for Kate Hammond's diagnosis. She stood up from examining the mare's delicate leg and beamed at her audience.

"Give me half an hour with her. I'll do some massage and laser treatment. Slap a poultice on that cannon and give her a shot of Bute. She'll be right as rain pretty soon. When's your next class?

"About an hour's time," Emma said. "But we've written that one off."

"Quite right. Next one?"

"This evening."

"Let's get to work then!"

* * *

After being ushered out of the stable so she could work in peace by Kate, Sam and Emma walked in the direction of the Dome to watch a bit of the action and to try take their minds off Malaika's woes. Despite these attempts they still arrived back at the stable exactly thirty minutes later.

"She's ten times better already," Kate informed them. "I've just put a poultice on her. Keep that on for a while. Feeling okay?"

Sam and Emma nodded obediently.

"Great! I'll be off then…"

"Wait, Kate!" Sam said hurriedly as the young woman started walking briskly away. "Thank you for your help. You're a lifesaver."

"The least I could do. She's a gorgeous horse. I look forward to seeing her in action."

"Thanks, so do we. Listen Kate, a - a friend -" Sam faltered over her words, "- mentioned you might be able to help us further. My other horse Jetsetter, well, he's lame too. He and I had a fall some months ago - nearly a year now - and I ended up with a broken neck and him with a chipped shoulder. I'm getting better but he's still lame. Do you think you could help cure a chipped shoulder?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Kate looked thoughtful.

"It's a possibility. I'd need to see x-rays, of course. But I've helped a couple of horses back home in the States with similar problems. Admittedly, they were racehorses with fractured shoulders but I'd say it's worth a try."

Sam grinned broadly. Could this be the turning point for Jetsetter too?


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

That evening Sam, Emma and Malaika awaited their turn in the British Platinum Trophy, this time sound and healthy, albeit a little nervous. What should have been their third class was now their first since they had been forced to scratch from the previous two. Matt Benning on Speed Limit had won the first one which had been held the night before in spectacular fashion. He had ridden all three of his mounts in that class but only Leon Brooke's horse had placed. Then earlier that day Mark Carter had carried off the Mystic Sky Memorial Cup ahead of Matt and Tom McGrath.

As Sam stood near the entrance to the floodlit arena strategies swirled around in her mind. Each competitor was allowed to enter five classes per horse and was awarded points for each place. Twenty horses with the most points would then qualify for the Huntingdon Open Show Jumping Final on Sunday. Missing those two classes had been a big blow to them and now only gave them three others to make as many points as possible. She supposed it could be done since there were too many people and too few classes for one rider to accumulate a great amount of points but with only three classes they would need to do very well in each of them. It was a daunting prospect and Sam didn't know whether to mention to Emma the great impact which the results of these rounds would cause or not. Sam thought she probably would have realised already. Although she didn't doubt Emma and Malaika's capabilities, she sighed with relief when she read in the programme that none of the big names like Mark Carter or Tom McGrath had entered this class. Matt Benning had but was riding Dingo, one of his other sponsored rides and which didn't pose quite as much of a threat as Speed Limit.

Matt went in before Emma and came out eight faults worse off. Jogging out he scuffed Dingo's mane with his hand but didn't look particularly angry. When Emma rode into the arena Sam's stomach turned a somersault.

_God, if this what I'm feeling, what the heck is Emma feeling?_ Sam thought.

* * *

The spotlights spread a warm golden glow over the whole arena and bounced off Malaika's fit satin-like hindquarters. Sam took a deep breath as the electric bell sounded and her eyes fixed keenly on the two as they rose and fell over each jump. As they landed clear over the first jump, Sam instinctively watched Malaika's stride, praying that every step would be sound. By the fourth jump Sam knew they couldn't do a thing wrong. Malaika was flicking her heels over each fence in scorn and carrying Emma round faultlessly. Emma wasn't riding badly but on the other hand wasn't riding her best either, her nerves showing. Although she sympathised with the girl, to Sam's mind her best was what would be needed for them to be competing on Sunday. She let out her breath as the pair whisked through the Finish and looked at the projected screen on the far wall of the arena which boldly declared a clear round within the time allowed.

* * *

Emma was one of twelve riders to make it to the jump-off and while they awaited their turn Sam stayed close to her friend, trying to inject some confidence into her. Emma's face was growing paler by the minute and frantically Sam tried to combat her apprehension.

"Just concentrate on the course. Forget about everything around you. There's only you and Mally, okay? You've seen how easy the course is; you've already done it once. What's even better is that there's less to jump. Just remember the session we had with Jo from next door, the same thing applies here. All you need to do is up the pace," Sam rallied.

"I don't know, Sam," Emma moaned. "It's not as easy as that. Look how many people have got into the jump-off. They're sure to have faster times than us. Just look at them," she said gesturing towards the other riders milling around the warm up arena on expensive looking show jumpers. "There's no way we're as good as them."

"Don't be silly," Sam said sternly. "That sort of attitude isn't going to get us far. Now go into that ring and ride like you're riding for Malaika and not for these other peasants." A ghost of a smile tugged at the sides of Emma's mouth at Sam's rather insulting comment about all the other riders.

"Go get 'em," Sam urged as Emma's number was called and gave Malaika a departing pat on the rump before going to take up her post at the edge of the arena.

* * *

The route of the jump-off course was twisted and intertwining and Sam was a little disappointed that Emma didn't take a bolder approach to it. Although they went at a quick pace and cleared everything, her turns were a little wide and subsequently lost them precious seconds. But otherwise, Sam thought, it was a good round and they weren't out of the running yet. The pair had been seventh to go and so far had the best time.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Emma said sadly when they met up again in the collecting ring.

"Don't be. Why do you need to be sorry?" Sam said placing a comforting hand on Emma's knee.

"I know we could have gone faster but I just couldn't help myself. I had to be careful. I wanted to go faster -"

"Emma," Sam interrupted her. "Stop it. There are five more people to jump and -" Sam swivelled round so she could see the scoring screen as the competitor following Emma exited the ring. "- you are still in the lead. Have some faith in yourself."

Emma managed a weak smile in reply.

Her lead however, didn't last long and was quickly knocked down by two others. But to Sam and Emma's relief it still secured them a third place. Sam tried to work out the points in her head. "We're going to have to win those next two if we're going to have a stab at the Final," she muttered.

* * *

After another night of fitful sleep Sam, Emma and Jem prepared for their first class of the day, the Sapphire Speed Stakes on Saturday. As the morning sped by, the team had little to say to one another. They were all wrapped up with their own thoughts and fears, winning the next class being the dominant one. Sam was trying to come to terms with the fact Emma might not make it to the Final. They had no room for manoeuvre so to speak. One false move in the next two classes would snatch the Final out of their reach. It was a big ask for Emma and Malaika to succeed, Sam knew, and she tried to comfort herself with the fact that they had got to Huntingdon in the first place. That in itself was a triumph. Maybe they had been aiming too high.

* * *

The sun was riding high by ten o'clock when finally Jem led Malaika out of her stable. Sam and Emma both looked approvingly at the mare's condition and turnout. Her tack and her coat gleamed and although somewhat lumpy, Jem had managed to plait her blonde mane. Sam noticed that, hardly surprisingly, Emma had been even quieter today than yesterday but she also seemed to have a determined and focussed air about her. Sam chose not to interfere with her thoughts and silently watched them warming up inside the indoor practice area with Jem beside her.

When she did finally speak to Emma it was seconds before she was due to enter the ring.

"Good luck, Emma," she called. Emma nodded to her and Jem then turned to look straight between Malaika's twitching ears and sent the mare forward. The bell rang and Emma completed a dressage-winning twenty-metre circle before going through the Start. The first jump was a parallel of brown and yellow poles and the pair soared over it beautifully. They took the second in their stride and turning ninety degrees at the top of the sandy arena they met the third perfectly. The fourth obstacle was a tall blue and white vertical and Emma shortened Malaika appropriately for take-off. Sam winced when the pair rapped another parallel hard but sighed when the rocking poles staying in their cups. The combination down the centre of the course mocked Emma as she steered Malaika round to face it but gritting her teeth she pushed Malaika forward, clearing the first element and sitting up sharply before meeting the second. Sam marvelled at her accuracy and superb riding and shook her head in wonder when Malaika galloped through the Finish.

"That was fantastic, Emma," she said breathlessly when she and Jem welcomed her at the gate. "I've never seen you ride so well."

Emma grinned, her cheeks flushed with pride and adrenaline.

"Wasn't Malaika an angel?" she replied, patting the mare's damp neck and rubbing her bumpy plaits.

"It won't be long before the jump-off. There's only a couple more people to go," Sam said. "But best leap off and give her a short breather."

"How many do you think have gone through to the jump-off?" Emma asked.

"About ten, I'd say."

"And I know which one we'll be keeping a keen eye on," Emma said wryly and nodding towards a horse and rider waking around the perimeter of the practice area on a loose rein. It was Matt Benning on one of his other rides.

"Yeah, but don't let him bother you too much. That's horse he's riding, Panasonic might be fast but isn't very accurate when jumping at speed," Sam replied. "Malaika, on the other hand, is in her element in speed classes, so just let her do what she does best, okay?"

Emma nodded dutifully.

* * *

The jump-off didn't get off to an encouraging start as the first five riders came back with no less than eight faults each.

"Ooh," Emma said, quailing in her saddle. "Why is everyone doing badly?"

"Emma, I know it's bad sportsmanship but you are supposed to be _pleased_ when the opposition do badly," Sam reproved.

Matt, riding eighth, notched up the best score so far of four faults. Then the two following riders between him and Emma both rode well, beating his score. The one rider also had four faults but in a faster time than Panasonic and the other completed the first clear round.

"Right, time to go in now. Second, third and fourth placed are all sorted. All we need to do is go in and collect first," Sam said encouragingly to Emma.

"Will do." Emma clicked her tongue and sent Malaika jogging into the arena for the second time that day. "Come on, Mally. We have to do it," she whispered to the Anglo Arab. "We _have_ to win this class."

* * *

Malaika set a fast pace of her own accord and flew over the first like she had wings attached to her hooves. Turning nimbly and sending up a spray of sand they cut inside the combination towards the second, a wide double bar. The mare hurtled over giving the jump plenty of air and turned at Emma's bidding to the left and steadied under her guiding hand to face the wall. She took off well away from the obstacle and just grazed the top with her hind hooves but the top white blocks remained firm.

"Come on, Mally! We have to do it!!" cried Emma, pumping her heels against the girth. The two galloped down the long side of the ring and only just steadied in time for the parallel standing at the far corner. Again, Malaika rapped it violently with her toes and the pole rocked perilously in its cups. Emma cursed herself for not being more careful and waited to hear the soft thud of the pole hitting the cushiony ground. When she heard nothing she looked back and gasped with relief that the jump was still standing and almost missed the turn into the last line of fences.

"If we win this Mally, we are on our way!" she said urging on the chestnut mare. There were two fences left to jump: a triple closely followed by a vertical. This was where most of the blunders by the other riders had been made. A couple of strides away, she steadied Malaika, sitting deep in the saddle and taking a firmer grip on the reins. Malaika met the jump perfectly and arched over with inches to spare. Emma watched the vertical as they landed and touched Malaika with her heel just once so that the mare's stride lengthened and they took off, giving the final jump a wide berth. Emma's cheers were drowned out by the crowd's as they galloped through the Finish, putting the other clear round contender firmly into second place.


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Riding high on euphoria Emma, Sam and Jem eagerly awaited their second and final class for the day, The Knockout. After their success earlier that morning Sam was feeling hopeful since she knew Malaika relished this sort of competition. The jumps in The Knockout wouldn't be exceptionally large - although large enough to seem imposing - nor would the course be very tricky. What really mattered was speed with, of course, a certain degree of accuracy. All The Knockout consisted of was riding in heats head to head with another rider over two identical lines of jumps on each side of the arena first in one direction then turning to jump the second line in the other direction. The first one home would go into the next round until a winner was found in the final of the heats. Sam noted that Mark Carter, Tom McGrath and Matt Benning on his second mount, Panasonic were all entered as well as Ralph de Jaeger and other intimidating names.

Emma's first rival was a young Englishman on a heavy-looking grey mare. Both horses skittered nervously at the Start, waiting for the gun to sound. As soon as the bang rent the musty air, Malaika shot off like a bullet. She and the grey matched strides over the first two fences but then Malaika pulled marginally ahead. Shooting over the last in the one line of jumps Emma sat back in the saddle and pulled on her right rein. Mane and tail flying, Malaika spun round on her hocks and sending up a wave of thick sand, plunged towards the final flight. Her heavier rival wasn't quite so quick and was soon two strides behind. Emma had never experienced any competition so exciting and she laughed out loud as amid the yelling of the crowd Malaika bolted through the Finish way ahead of the grey.

There was a short wait before their next heat, in which time Mark Carter, Tom McGrath, Ralph de Jaeger and Matt all won theirs comfortably. Emma's second opponent was an Irishman whose weather-beaten face showed years of hard experience. His horse looked just as confident and just as capable but it soon became obvious they were no match for the Anglo Arab mare. By the far turn Malaika was already ahead by a couple of strides and despite the Irishman's quick and neat turn, she still managed to keep her nose in front over the finish line.

* * *

In the next three rounds they were just as successful and in the last, Emma's opponent notched up four faults at the first fence so she was able to slow the pace down and let Malaika do an easy clear. But despite this, by the quarter finals, Malaika's nostrils were like poppies and her coat was saturated rust red with sweat. Tom McGrath and Matt Benning had already been knocked out and to Emma and Sam's disappointment she was drawn against Mark Carter for her next ride. Mark was an exceptional young rider, not much older than Matt but with years of experience. His horse was of a heavier warm blood breed but they still managed to get off at a fast rate. The audience packed into the warm and musty indoor arena roared their support as the gun fired. The pair raced head to head down the arena and turned together towards the final line. Emma pushed Malaika on but still couldn't shake Mark and his superior show jumper. Over the last jump they were still nose to nose and with desperation Emma clouted Malaika on the flank with her riding crop. Malaika catapulted forward and just stole the semi final place from her opponent. The mare pulled up willingly once they were out of the ring and Emma jumped off.

"I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to smack you," she moaned. "We needed to win that and we did. You are a wonderful horse, Mally. Yes, you are."

"Well done, Emma! That was a really good round," Sam congratulated her, arriving by their side. "Mark Carter takes some beating." And then noticing Malaika's heaving sides and vein-popping neck and flanks, she murmured "Poor old girl. You try so hard."

"She's exhausted," Emma said looking concerned.

"She loves knockouts though. That's why she's so good at them," Sam replied. "Don't go giving up now." She grinned and patted the girl on the shoulder. "You've got to win this, you hear?"

* * *

Once again Emma lined Malaika up alongside the other finalist, Nicolas Poirier, a Frenchman on a very pretty petite looking bay mare. Malaika was late at the Start and as a consequence the French mare met the first fence in front. They rose over the second and the third jump but Malaika was still a fraction of a second behind on each one. Spinning round after the last in the one line of jumps Malaika bravely dug in and regained a few precious inches. Emma drummed her heels against the mare's sides and chucked the reins up her neck over every jump. As the two horses touched down after the last obstacle they were stride for stride. But the French mare was also tired and only Malaika's fighting spirit propelled them through the Finish ahead and into the final.

Emma hardly had a minute to give Malaika a breather after her round and tried to delay their entry as much as possible by fiddling with stirrup leathers and bridle straps. Their opponent was the defending champion Ralph de Jaeger, Switzerland's top show jumper on his comparatively fresh-looking Oldenburg stallion. At the signal of the gun both horses jumped forward together. Emma found she had to work extra hard to help Malaika over each jump but she gave a wail of despair as Malaika's front legs met with the top poles of the second jump. For the first time that day a fence fell beneath the Anglo Arab's hooves.

_The only thing we can do is push on and hope for the best_, Emma thought grimly. Distantly, she could hear the crowd screaming encouragement but they seemed another world away as she urged Malaika on and on. They rounded the turn at the bottom of the arena and again both horses took off together.

_Please help us! _Emma prayed. She used her whip once on Malaika before the second last fence, sending the mare marginally ahead then again in front of the final fence. The chestnut mare inched even further ahead but all the time Emma knew that the fence they had down would cost them the class. But the gods must have been on their side for Ralph de Jaeger's horse jumped flat over the last and sent half the poles flying. The dull clanging of poles upon one another was for once the sweetest sound to Emma's ears as they tore through the Finish ahead. Four faults for the Swiss meant Emma, with the fastest time, had won The Knockout!

* * *

Sam waited with baited breath for the last class of the evening. Although Emma wasn't entered in the Donworth Classic later that night, the result could still keep her and Malaika out of the final the next day. The two had accumulated just enough points to grasp a place in the final twenty but there was one person in this last class who, if she won, would steal that place from Emma. Grimly, Sam knew there was one person who would be able to help them through and that was Matt Benning. He was also competing in this class on Speed Limit and even though his place in the Final was already secure, if he won this Emma would be safe as well.

Matt didn't disappoint her. He rode Speed Limit around the formidable course with effortless skill and his growing fan club in the crowd yelled in support. Sam allowed herself a smile as he picked up his first prize, their ticket to the Huntingdon Final.

* * *

Fighting back exhaustion Sam struggled down the narrow road from the collecting ring to the stables in her wheelchair, which she had reverted to because she was so tired but stopped when she heard the clip-clop of metal shoes striking the tarmac behind her. Matt was walking beside Speed Limit and coming in their direction. In the semi darkness, out of the glare of the spotlights, the big black stallion looked even more menacing. As Matt drew up alongside her he stopped in surprise at seeing her smiling at him. With feigned disbelief he looked around to see if it was really him whom she was smiling at.

"Thank you," she said.

"What have I done?" Matt chuckled.

"You winning the Donworth Classic has given Emma a place in the Final tomorrow."

"Really? I thought you were more interested in bringing down Leon Brooke's empire of cruelty than winning," he mocked her.

"I can make an exception."

"So, in that case, I don't suppose you've been very impressed with our other performances? We haven't done too badly."

Sam knew just as well as he did that he was one of the top qualifiers.

"I'll admit you did okay in The Puissance."

"Is that because Mark Carter beat us?"

"Second in The Puissance isn't something I'd sneeze at. How high did you go?"

"Mark cleared seven foot two inches."

Sam let her breath out in a whistle.

"Pretty hard to beat," she said. Matt grinned.

"Better stop now, else you want to give me an ego. See you tomorrow."

Turning Speed Limit's head he continued down the road. Sam watched him go, her eyelids heavy with tiredness. She knew she should get some rest and go back to the inn across the road where they were all staying but if she went to bed she still wouldn't be able to sleep.

* * *

Arriving at Malaika's stable Sam found Jem and Emma packing up for the evening. Their high spirits made Sam feel even more tired. After saying good night to them, she wheeled herself away from all the noise and activity. She stopped in the clearing between the temporarily-erected stables and all the parked trailers, silhouetted like hulking monsters against the indigo skyline. The air was calm and a delicate breeze caressed her cheeks like cool silk. Sitting, enveloped by the shadows, Sam let her thoughts roam.

What would have happened if she were the one riding Malaika in the jumping instead of Emma? she wondered. Would things have happened differently? Would Malaika still have gone lame? Would she still have felt so compellingly drawn to the dashing Matt Benning, nephew of the insufferable Leon Brooke? Would she have made it into the top twenty? Perhaps she would have bought another horse along like Life Guard, the horse Carroll Bellamy-Charles had lent her last season. Or maybe she would have brought along Hellfire. He was doing so well with his owner Ruth Redman, might he have been good enough to show jump with Sam on this cold night at Huntingdon? She looked up at the sky with wondering eyes as if seeking the answers to these questions. The lights of the city had dimmed the twinkling stars but the moon shone brightly, a shimmering blue haze surrounding it. A wisp of cloud was draped transparently across it like a silver cloak of silk.

_Oh, how I wish I was the one competing at this show. Why is life so unfair?_

Tears welled in her eyes and she blinked them back, angry with herself for being so self-pitying. She still had a loving family, still had two horses and Emma, a loyal friend and her gateway to the world she would otherwise have been denied. Maybe she was just tired, Sam concluded. Maybe it was time to call it a night. Tomorrow was going to be a long day…


	19. Chapter 19

**_I figured it would only be fair to let you have the last three chapters in one big chunk since they are so closely connected to eachother in this fast-paced finale so here is the second last. Be sure to click on the link half way down to see the finished jumping course of the Final..._**

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sunday morning dawned bright and crisp. By eight o'clock, even before the dew had dried off the fence outside the stables, people were swarming into the arena, eager for a full day's entertainment. There would be a dressage display, pony games and dog jumping before the main event, the Huntingdon Open Show Jumping Final later that afternoon. Emma couldn't bear to eat anything and turned green when Alison offered her a bacon and egg roll. All she could manage were endless cups of strong hot coffee. Sam was no better. She felt even more nervous for Emma than she would normally do for herself had she been the one competing. Jem was also subdued and went about his duties in silence. Malaika, on the other hand, was perky and well rested after the previous day's hard jumping. As Jem mucked out her stable she butted him in the small of his back with her nose, as if to ask what the matter was with him. Jem straightened up and touched her on her muzzle.

"You've got to do us proud today, y'hear?"

Nonchalantly, Malaika snaked her head round so that he could scratch behind her ears. Jem obliged. "Sam's counting on you not to let her down. Don't disappoint her, Mally."

* * *

The morning seemed to drag on but in the last hour before the Final started the time sped by and before Emma knew what was happening, the electric bell in the arena had sounded, declaring the course open for inspection. Shrugging her black jacket over her shoulders, Emma walked alongside Sam into the sandy arena. Her knees nearly gave way as she saw the size of the jumps strategically placed around the ring. The poles looked as thick as telegraph poles and the plants decorating most of them burst out in an exclamation of colour. The glossy wings loomed forbiddingly on either side of the jumps like impenetrable fortress walls.

"I can't," Emma whispered, trembling.

"Come on, Emma," Sam said sternly. "They aren't as bad as you think."

"Yes, they are. We'll _never_ be able to jump these."

Sam, who had been having thoughts along the same line, interrupted her sharply.

"Of course you can! Don't take that sort of attitude. You wouldn't be here walking this course if you couldn't jump it."

"But we've never even _tried_ anything this big before," Emma wailed.

"Do you know your jump-off course?" Sam said ignoring her.

"My what?"

"Your jump-off course. You are going to have a clear round, aren't you?" Sam fixed her with an eagle eye. Emma gulped visibly.

"Yes, Sam," she replied meekly.

As they walked round neither could help but notice all the other big shot riders also walking the course. There was Tom McGrath, Mark Carter, Matt Benning, Nicolas Poirier, Ralph de Jaeger and leading female rider in the United States, Marianna Fennessy to name but a few. The size of the jumps didn't appear to trouble them at all and wearing professional deadpan masks to hide any emotion, they walked the course.

"They're all used to jumping these," Emma said quietly. "Look at their faces. This is just a walk in the park for them."

"They're feeling just as scared as you are. Don't worry about them. And stop looking at other people and concentrate on where you're supposed to be going."

* * *

**_Huntingdon Open Show Jumping Final Jump Course - www . geocities . com/championshipqualifier/index . html_  
**

Riding first in an event was always a nerve-wracking experience but Mark Carter entered the arena surrounded by an aura of cool confidence. The huge crowd that packed the seating stands welcomed him with a respectful round of applause. Solemnly, horse and rider circled before the Start then turned to face the first jump. The crowd clapped after every jump they cleared and cheered as he galloped through the Finish for a faultless round.

"Well, that's set the standard high," Sam muttered as she turned away from her usual vantage point by the gate.

But it wasn't a standard many could achieve. For six rounds nobody could go clear, then Ralph de Jaeger went in and equalled Mark's performance. Tom McGrath, riding next on his horse Dramatix, rode a superb round and the crowd showed their appreciation by clapping and cheering madly when the hugely popular pair finished the course.

Again there was a lull in performance as three more riders went in and came out with faults next to their name on the big projector scoreboard screen on the arena wall.

"There aren't that many clear rounds," Sam said as Jem walked up to the rail to watch the jumping with her. "And I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing."

"What do you mean?" Jem asked.

"Well, it'd be a good thing if we go clear, 'cause that will mean there'll be less people to jump off against, but it'd be a bad thing if this is such a hard course that we don't go clear at all."

"We'll go clear," Jem said with confidence he didn't feel.

"You reckon, eh?" Sam glanced at him doubtfully before turning back to the arena.

"One last round then I think we should go check on Emma. Her go will be soon."

* * *

"Right, in you go Emma. Good luck. I'm convinced you can do it," Sam said patting Malaika on the rump as the last rider jogged out of the arena. Emma's eyes were like saucers filled with pools of terror and her face was drained of all colour. Swallowing loudly she gathered up her reins and squeezed with her legs. Malaika pricked her ears and jogged forward, her tail held erect and flowing.

"She'll do it, I know she will," Sam muttered. "She _must _do it. Malaika is in one of her best moods."

Emma cantered a slow circle, reluctant to even go through the Start. The bell ringing felt like an electric shock going through her body. The first jump towered before them and she froze with fear. Malaika hesitated but decided to jump despite her stunned rider. Her quarters propelled them into the air and she tucked her legs up into her chest as close as she could. Emma clutched at her mane and gasped as they landed.

_I've never jumped anything as huge as that!_ she thought wildly. With renewed confidence she rode a bit stronger on towards the next jump.

"Good girl," Sam whispered from the ringside. She gripped the cold metal railing until her knuckles were white. "She's discovered the jumps aren't going to bite her."

Emma turned Malaika towards the third jump and Malaika, willing as always, lifted off and cleared it with a flick of her heels. The two were actually starting enjoy themselves until they came to the combination. They rapped the top pole of the first element hard and Sam winced as she witnessed the error.

"Wake up, Emma! Pay attention to what you're doing!" Sam muttered.

Emma was brought back to reality with a jolt and struggled to line Malaika up for the second element. Malaika put in a short stride and nearly rocketed Emma over her head but clinging frantically to the mass of blonde mane, the girl managed to stay in the saddle as the Anglo Arab sailed over.

"You can do it," Sam urged leaning forward over the metal railing. Jem, standing next to her, was jumping up and down in excitement. Emma and Malaika were over the third last jump.

"Come on, Emma. That's it." Sam didn't hear herself speak and wasn't aware that every time the two went over a jump she leaned forward too.

"Come on, Emma!" Sam's voice rose in excitement as the pair successfully negotiated the second last. "You can do it! Go on!" she suddenly shouted, echoed by other supporters in the packed crowds. Malaika took off well away from the final fence, the muscles in her hindquarters like coiled springs. Arching her neck and holding her tail high like a banner she soared over, just tapping the top pole. Sam's heart leapt into her mouth as she watched in horror, the pole moving in its cups. It rocked from side to side, gentle as a baby in a cradle, yet as precarious as a vehicle hanging over the edge of a cliff. Emma swivelled her head round and was watching the pole as Malaika galloped through the Finish. Slowly the rocking subsided and the pole rested once more in its cups.

"Yes!" Sam and Jem screamed in unison and threw their arms around each other.

"She did it," Sam said with genuine surprise. "Emma! You did it, girl!" Limping as fast as she could on one crutch down the few steps to the sandy floor of the collecting ring she welcomed Malaika and her rider coming through the exit.

"That was unbelievable!" Emma exclaimed. "Who would have _dreamed_ we could have done that course?" Her face which had been ghostly white hardly two minutes ago was now flushed pink with adrenaline.

"Excuse me, ladies," a voice from behind Sam broke in. It was the next rider to go into the ring.

"I'm sorry, we're in the w-" Sam stopped when she stepped aside and met the serious gaze of Matt Benning about to enter the arena. She hadn't seen him look so determined before. And such determination with his skill was a dangerous combination.

Watching him trot away Sam muttered to Emma

"Excuse me for a couple of minutes. I have to see this round."

* * *

Matt's riding was on fire. With precision as sharp as a knife he proceeded to cut corners at the most acute angles and still managed to place Speed Limit exactly right before each fence. With riding which equalled Mark Carter's and Tom McGrath's it was hard to believe that he had been virtually unknown before this last season. Brimming with charm, he smiled at his newly-acquired legion of fans as the black stallion jogged out of the ring, the projector screen behind him proclaiming another clear round.

* * *

Of the twenty who had qualified for the Final, only seven made it through to the jump-off: Mark Carter, Ralph de Jaeger, Tom McGrath, Emma Gordon, Nicolas Poirier, Marianna Fennessy and Matt Benning. Again, Mark Carter was first to ride. It was just as well Emma wasn't anywhere near Sam during this time because by the end of his round she had given up hope for the girl. Mark Carter's round had been exquisite. There wasn't a corner he hadn't cut finer nor a jump he hadn't whisked over faultlessly. Ralph de Jaeger, Swiss supreme and defending champion, went in and also rode a clear round but relinquished his crown by riding three whole seconds slower than Mark, even though he had gone flat out the whole way round. He rode out of the ring shaking his head in disbelief and disappointment. Tom McGrath was next in. He was greeted with the usual roar from the crowd which seemed to follow him whichever show he went to. His horse, Dramatix was equally well-loved. He was a big dark bay Holsteiner stallion with a trickle of white down the centre of his bold nose. Sam loved to watch this pair jump because they were so in tune with one another and so willing to help each other out of any sticky situation. But nothing could help them as Tom turned for the five-barred gate. Dramatix arched over turning in mid air in readiness for the final treble combination but on landing, the big horse stumbled in the churned up sand. Tom hauled back on the reins, trying to right them but it was too late. Dramatix's nose touched the ground then he somersaulted over, throwing Tom over his shoulder and into the dirt. The crowd gasped in horror then let out of a sigh of relief as both horse and rider got slowly to their feet. Tom, with his breeches and jacket stained with dirt, led Dramatix forward to check for lameness and there was another outlet of relief in the audience when they saw that he was sound. Amidst a respectful applause Tom, with his head hanging, led Dramatix from the ring, their chance at winning the Huntingdon Final over for another year.

* * *

Nicolas Poirier was next to jump. After a promising start though, Nicolas' horse made an absolute shambles of the narrow vertical and lost his concentration as a result. With a shake of his head he exited the arena with twelve faults. Marianna rode in and cantered a circle before attempting her course. Her horse jumped well and looked like it was really enjoying it but Marianna lacked the knife edge riding of Mark Carter and, although going clear, was behind both Mark and Ralph. Sam took a deep breath in preparation for the next round. Matt was to follow and Sam was in two minds as to whether she wanted him to do well or whether she wanted him to fail miserably. Her common sense told her she wanted him to have a bad round thus giving Emma a better chance and giving Leon Brooke a slap in the face. But the other half of her wanted him to do well because although he was always so irritatingly good-looking and rode for Sam's most hated person, she found him remarkably charming with his suave nature.

Passing the departing Marianna Fennessy Matt halted the gleaming black stallion, Speed Limit at the curtain to the arena. Looking at Sam, who was standing just inside the arena by her usual spot at the railing square in the eyes, he gave her a heart-melting smile. His handsome face softened and his mahogany brown eyes danced wickedly. With Sam looking on incredulously, he kicked his feet out of the stirrups and jumped lithely to the sandy floor. Leon Brooke rushed up spluttering

"What are you doing, boy? Is he lame? Get on, you're next in!"

"No, he's not lame, Leon," Matt said slowly and deliberately. "But I'm not going in."

"What do you mean? This class is sixty thousand quid in the bank if you do your job properly. This is no time to get cold feet!"

"Oh, I haven't got cold feet," Matt replied airily, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Then get back on that horse!" Leon Brooke hissed in fury. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm chucking in the reins. I'm sick of being bullied by you just so you can line your pockets. I'm sick of the way you treat your horses and the way you make me ride them."

His uncle stood silent for a few seconds, reeling in shock. His face, paling momentarily was quickly flushed brick red in anger.

"I've learnt from someone," Matt went on, pausing to look at Sam briefly and smiling, "that there's more to life than winning, that horses are more than just money-making machines to be exploited. But that's what your life revolves around, Leon, and I don't want a part of it anymore."

"For God's sake, Matthew! Pull yourself together! Have you been drinking?"

Matt laughed.

"No, no, Leon. I'm quite sober. But you're still not going to find me riding into the ring on _your_ horse under _your _patronage."

With that he tossed Speed Limit's reins at his uncle, hitting him on the chest with them and strode past him, shrugging off his navy blue coat and tugging loose the silk tie at his throat as he went.


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

The electric bell rang shrilly around the enclosed arena. The tension in the air was so intense it could be cut with a knife. If Emma failed then the hugely popular Mark Carter would win. The strained silence was now only broken by the muffled thud of Malaika's oiled hooves. Sam stood beside Jem, leaning against the cold metal railing, adrenaline pumping through her body.

Emma cantered a slow circle and then turned boldly towards the Start. Any fears Sam might have had as to how determined Emma would ride were firmly squashed as she watched Malaika gallop flat out towards the first vertical. The mare soared over, mane and tail flying. On landing Emma sat back sharply, almost pulling Malaika back onto her haunches. With a confident shifting of her weight in the saddle and a flick of the reins the girl spun Malaika round on her hocks almost turning a hundred and eighty degrees like a polo pony. In unison with the rest of the crowd Sam gasped, as instead of going around an obvious obstacle which would have given a perfect approach to the second jump, Malaika nimbly cut inside, scraping against the obstruction's wing. She took two powerful strides and sprung into the air, taking the parallel sideways on. In midair Emma was already shifting her weight to the right and looking in the direction of the next jump. She kept a thorough contact on the reins as they rounded the corner knowing that was where Tom McGrath and his horse had fallen earlier. Now diagonally across the arena was the first treble combination. Malaika hurtled towards the first element, the vertical with a daunting-looking water tray beneath.

"Careful," Sam said through gritted teeth as the mare rapped the top pole hard and it rocked wildly in its cups. The crowd gasped again, some groaned but the jump remained intact. It was a long one stride to the second element, the triple bar and Emma threw her reins up Malaika's neck and kicked urgently with her heels. The Anglo Arab stretched out her neck and despite her short stride and having been distracted by clouting the previous jump she strained every muscle in her body to make the stride. On take-off Emma threw her body forward up her horse's neck. Malaika rose like a bird, clearing the fence amidst the cheers from an enraptured crowd. But the audience hurriedly shushed themselves as Malaika landed. Again Emma had to sit up sharply in order to meet the shorter stride into the parallel, the third element. Malaika tried to stand off but the momentum of her last jump took her right beneath it and she clouted the first pole hard. The crowd quailed but let out a collective sigh when it wasn't dislodged. Once more, Emma had the choice of sending her mount around another obstacle in order to get a better stride but throwing caution to the wind she sat back firmly and turned amidst a cloud of dust, galloping the three strides to the next jump, the formidable ornamental wall.

Sam glanced at the clock and quickly assessed Emma was a fraction behind Mark Carter. Then to her and everyone else's amazement, after clearing the wall, Emma cut the mare directly through the middle of the course and aimed straight for the almost impossible gap between the first and second jumps. The crowd, seeing this short cut being used for the first time, roared with excitement. Malaika looked a little unsettled as she approached the minute space with the splayed wings and flower baskets on either side but then responded to her rider's urging. Emma knew that jumping the next obstacle, the gate from this angle would eave them looking in completely the wrong direction to the last line of fences which spread down the one side of the arena. The only alternative would be to turn in midair, risking landing awkwardly in exactly the same spot where Tom and Dramatix had fallen earlier. She shot a lightning glance at the clock. She would have to take that chance if she was to win. Malaika took off and shifted her body in midair and landed amazingly straight. The sand on the other side of the gate was churned up, making Malaika peck forward and Emma nearly shot over her head, losing her stirrups in the process. Then both of them heard the tumultuous roar of the crowd cheering them home. Emma certainly wasn't going to quit now. Her feet now free of stirrups she drummed her heels against Malaika's sides, urging the mare down the arena towards the first of the final three jumps. The gallant mare responded and courageously tackled the obstacle. With no stirrups Emma couldn't shift her weight as easily, in fact she was finding it hard to stay on. She needed to trust Malaika to see the shorter stride on the other side. The crowd's enthusiasm nearly took the roof off as they cleared the jump. Luckily, the noise seemed to make the mare pull up a little and she met the second last perfectly. Emma dug her knees into the rolls of the saddle so hard they ached and clung desperately to the tangled mass of chestnut mane. Again they rose, clearing the parallel and hurtled towards the last jump. There was nothing in the time between her and Mark Carter. For the last stride before the triple bar, Emma leant her body forward, pushing Malaika on with hand, heel and seat.

"Go on, Mally! You can do it!" she cried. Malaika snorted, found her take off and soared through the musty air. Her hooves scraped the top of the poles but hardly moved them in their cups. The mare grunted as she landed heavily but took flight as soon as her feet touch the ground. With an amazing display of heart and courage the two catapulted through the Finish.

The clock froze and Sam fearfully took in the time. It was three tenths of a second faster than Mark Carter's. For a moment she stood in disbelief then yelled at the top of her voice. Jem, beside her was leaping up and down and punching the air. Grabbing Sam joyfully by the shoulders he gave her a massive bear hug. Sam couldn't begin to grasp the fact that they had won.

_Emma and Malaika had just won the Huntingdon Open Show Jumping Final!

* * *

  
_

Champagne was flowing and celebrations were riding high in the stable area later that night. Nervous and disgruntled snorts from the equine inhabitants were drowned out by the whoops and cheers of all those who wanted to congratulate Emma and Sam.

Sam made her way unsteadily to the back of a horsebox where bottles of champagne were on offer. She filled a plastic cup, smiling to herself. She hadn't felt this happy for longer than she could remember. Everything was coming right: Emma had won the Final, she was walking again, there was a good chance Jetsetter would get better with Kate Hammond's help. There was just one thing missing, which she couldn't quite place. She laughed at herself, what more could she want after all? Sam turned, her plastic cup filled with champagne held aloft. Her laughter died as she smacked straight into the person who'd become so familiar to her over the past few months.

"Matt," she stuttered in surprise. She remembered his heroic display in the ring. "We probably wouldn't have won if you hadn't dropped out," she said sincerely. Brushing the back of his strong fingers across her cheek, Matt smiled.

"Rubbish, don't take that away from Emma. She'd have won regardless of what I did."

"And I - I should thank you too," she stammered.

Matt's brows knitted.

"Why?"

"Thank you for leaving Leon Brooke. You certainly did it in style."

"It had to be done, didn't it? What better time than when he's about to make a packet?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Sam grinned.

"You said it yourself, nobody would have beaten me," he said, deadpan.

"You are so arrogant." She shook her head, exasperated.

"Sam, Sam, it's okay. I'm only kidding." Again she shook her head, this time with a slight smile on her lips. Just then, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder as Tom McGrath interrupted and wrapped an arm around each of them.

"Are you two still having a go at each other?" he chuckled.

"Not at all," Matt said, smiling slyly, not taking his eyes off Sam. Sam held his gaze. "I'm just winding her up."

"And we all know how hard that is," Tom teased, grinning at her. Sam looked at Tom with feigned annoyance.

"Really, Tom. I'd have expected more support from a longstanding friend like yourself."

Tom hiccupped.

"Forget winding each other up," he said, slapping both of them on their backs with alcohol-induced force, "and do what you've been dying to do for ages, Matt."

He let them go and stumbled as he turned away to rejoin the party.

"I guess he's right," Matt said quietly. Sam strained her ears to hear what he said.

"What does he mean?" Sam said warily, knowing that considering their stormy relationship, Matt Benning might be more inclined to throw her in the water trough.

"This," he whispered. Gently he cupped her face in his strong hands then bent his head to kiss her. For a second she tensed away, not knowing whether to fight or follow, then she realised why her happiness hadn't been complete before. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the reassuring pressure of his touch and tasted the champagne on his lips. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt there was no other place she'd rather be than with her horses, with Matt Benning and in the deep end of the competitive ocean of show jumping.

**THE END**

**_Phew! That's it I'm afraid. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story, putting up with my grammatical and spelling erorrs (yes I know!) and for all your helpful and encouraging reviews throughout the posting. I hope you find the ending just as satisfying as I did when I filled in the last full stop on the last sentence. Now is the most opportune time to leave me your final and overall feedback. Hopefully I've entertained you with this story, I'd appreciate it if you could entertain me now with your comments._**

**_Thanks for reading,_**

**_Hannah_**

**_xx  
_**


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